Grimaspawn, timelost psychotics, and lesser irritants
by MorayInTheWreck
Summary: Standalone stories of Morgan, Morgan, Lucina, and the rest of Fire Emblem Awakening's cast, with a focus on the second generation. Playing tonight: The second greatest tactician in Ylisse (but she tries harder!) faces the most terrifying challenge of her career. Inigo's dating life.
1. A Better Tomorrow

**Cynthia: Hero of the underinformed**

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><p>In the land of Ylisse, there was a young princess named Lucina. She had a loving and courageous father, a beautiful and caring mother, and two sisters. Her younger sister was named Cynthia, and she was a nuisance. Her older sister was also named Cynthia, and she was a secret. She was also Lucina's favorite.<p>

Lucina had only found out about her older sister at a family gathering when Uncle Robin had a bit too much punch. Well, she'd only found out about Cynthia being her sister. Lucina had admired the pegasus knight since she could walk. After that, she'd pressed the information to her heart, and used it carefully to find more time with her hero. She had idly wondered a time or two how her sister could be so much older than she was (almost as old as mom and dad, which didn't make much sense), but it didn't seem worth asking. If she did, Cynthia might go away. And it was hard to imagine an answer that would make up for that.

That morning, Lucina was sitting on the castle roof, looking out at the skies. She wasn't sure her older sister would visit, even if she'd promised, (Cynthia was unreliable. Well, both of them were, but with one it was an irritation and with the other it was tragedy. Nothing the younger could do hurt Lucina as much as missing out on time with the elder) but with reports of mercenary movement through the capital and a knight with white armor and dark blue hair gave her hope. Three hours of her heart stopping at every gull and egret took it away.

When she saw the wings of a pegasus, she was tempted to ignore it, write it off as just another messenger, if it wasn't a bird. Then she saw the blue, darker than the sky, and the gleaming white armor. Lucina started to cheer, then stopped herself. Technically, dad didn't want her on the roof. It wasn't the best idea to draw too much attention.

"Dadadadada...DAH! Once again, our hero has arrived to mentor her trusty sidekick!"

"Cynthia!"

"Lucy!"

The girl embraced her older sister and smiled.

"I bet you've been out being a hero and you still had time to come here!"

"Hero! It's our job to do the impossible. Anything I missed?"

"Aunt Maribelle took me an' Brady an' Morgan an' Mark an' Lin to see a concert. This scary looking guy played the violin."

"Ohhh."

"He was impressive. Everybody else started crying."

"Did he look a little like Brady?"

"Yes! Did you see him too? I didn't see you there. Was there another concert before this one? I bet there was! That's why Maribelle was glaring! It must have been better last time."

"That's not… quite it."

Lucina hadn't thought so either. But the alternative seemed to be a step too far. It was silly anyway. Just because there were two Cynthias, and the violinist looked like Brady, and Robin always had Morgan in the house and she looked just like Lin with more years (and a weird birthmark), and there was that woman who came to yell at Cordelia every year… that didn't mean anything odd was going on. Or at least it didn't mean she should ask any obnoxious questions.

Instead, she brushed the ground with her feet, and tried not to think too hard about it. What else could she talk about

"Oh, Kjelle had her birthday party. I got into a fight."

One way to put it. Another was rolling brawl. Another was a giant headache for everyone. She hadn't meant for it to get out of hand, but Inigo made Noire cry, and then she said something, and Kjelle said something, and then things kept going and she had a black eye and her fists were kind of bloody and the whole thing was a mess, and the big knight had to pick her up by her neck and… wait. The knight looked a little like Kjelle. It was hard to tell under the scars, but she did. It kept coming up!

"Lucy! What do heroes do?"

Lucina looked up. She'd gone a little farther off track than she meant to.

"Win?"

Cynthia tried to glare. Most of the other knights were much better at it, but the effort was there. It was the "Yes, but that's not what I was thinking of and you should know better" classic.

"I meant stop petty squabbles! Heroes have to stand together, like the Shepherds!"

Lucina nodded and some old questions rolled around her mind. Cynthia was in the great wars. The stories agreed that a blue haired pegasus knight had been in several major battles in the Valm campaign. But… that was just two years after Plegia. When mom and dad got married. She wasn't a math whiz like Laurent (Or Lin), but that didn't match up at all.

"Right. You know best."

"Yup! Just lean on your older sister."

Cynthia's glare was gone faster than it came. She felt even more proud than an older sister should most of the time. Even when Cynthia the lesser was doing something right (needless to say with her caring and excessively patient big sister's help), it wasn't like it was a surprise that Lucina could teach her. Older meant more experience. More time making mistakes. But Cynthia almost seemed surprised every time she gave Lucina a lesson.

"Cynthia? Do you… I have a question, milady."

Lucina winced. She always did that when she tensed up! And with Cynthia, too!

"Go on. But be less formal. We're family!"

"It's a bit awkward."

"Ohhhh. Who do you like? Is it Gerome? I bet it's Gerome! You and… err…"

"No."

"Mark? I bet he's…"

"No. It wasn't about that at all. It was a question about you."

"Oh. Nope! Too busy with hero work right now!"

"It… wasn't that either."

"I can't tell you about that! Heroes don't gossip."

Lucina shook her head.

"It didn't have anything to do with… relationships. Well, not that kind. I just noticed that…"

No point in hiding. Uncle Robin always said that half measures were worse than doing nothing at all.

"Well, Brady had that violinist, and Severa has that mercenary, and there was a knight at Kjelle's party and there's you, and that seems weird! Every one of us born between me and Lin has a double. Are they all… siblings too?"

Cynthia winced.

"Sort of?"

"If you don't want to say anything then that's fine! I don't need to know anything else!"

Lucina's tongue tripped over itself as she sputtered out her response. She hadn't meant to do this! Now Cynthia would go away and dad would find out she'd been on the roof and then she'd be stuck learning politics or diplomacy or something boring like that, and she'd never be a hero. Never get a chance for rescuing villages and warfare and all the things that dad and Cynthia got to do.

And she'd never see her favorite sister again, which was even worse.

Cynthia looked at Lucina and flailed her hands.

"Whoa, whoa whoa! I didn't mean that! I just was surprised. I didn't think you'd want to know about that yet."

Cynthia rubbed her head.

"I guess I didn't think much about how you'd want to know about it. Maybe I thought dad would tell you when you were old enough."

"Tell me what?"

Cynthia paced back and forth for a few seconds, and almost tripped. This close to the edge of the roof, Lucina almost panicked. But really. Cynthia had survived wars and all the terrors the world could bring. A little fall couldn't stop her.

"Err… how much do you know about Grima, other than what I've said?"

"Dragon? Uncle Robin killed it? Really big, really mean? Dad and Robin don't like to talk about it?"

"Yeah. That's… all… true. Um, I guess some of that's Robin's to tell. But I guess… do you know about time travel?"

"I read one of mother's books about it! I think the main character killed his own grandfather and he had to… Mother made me stop reading there."

"Oh. Was it one of Sumia's… special books?"

"I found it in a box under the bed."

Cynthia nodded.

"Oh. Yeah. Those… you might not want to read those until you're older. But you know about time travel. Uh… it's real. And we're from the future."

Lucina didn't say anything. Her eyes covered the gap.

"It's not like that. I mean, it wasn't the future you're getting! It was… a lot worse. Grima killed almost everyone. Dad, mom, Aunt Maribelle, Aunt Lissa..."

Cynthia paused. Lucina looked lost in thought. After a few more seconds, she spoke up.

"And me."

"What?"

"Well, there's no other me. And I'm not as big a hero as you are, and…"

"Err… No."

"Oh. You think I could be as big a hero as you are?"

Lucina smiled.

"I'm sure I could never match up to your example, but…"

"You already did, Lucy."

Lucina looked up in shock.

"What?"

"There was a you too."

"Oh, and I died saving you, and that inspired you to be a hero and lead everybody?"

Cynthia scratched her head.

"Not exactly. She… was kind of the leader. You were. You got us all here! I mean, the other you. The you that I grew up with."

"Really?"

"Yup! She was…"

Cynthia paused.

"I shouldn't be telling you any of this."

"Why not?"

"You're not her. I mean, she wanted to be sure you weren't her. You'll just try to be you instead of you. Her. Something."

"I'm sorry?"

Cynthia sighed and slumped.

"Lucy, I mean the older Lucy, you were, she was our leader. Going back was her idea. All of this was her idea. And she thought that we shouldn't… we were supposed to leave the past the same. Only we got separated and then she had to work alone and then things got out of hand and I kind of mixed up someone else for dad and…"

Cynthia shook her head.

"Well, we saved the world! Lucy kind of… left when we were done."

"Left, or left?"

Lucina's voice stumbled a little. There were so many questions. None of them came easily. She… her father, dead? Another sister? The whole world burned? It felt impossible. But she could see that Cynthia believed it. And Cynthia, in her experience, was all but infallible.

"Err… left. As far as any of us know. Mom saw her say goodbye to you, but that's the last anyone knew."

"What did she say?"

Cynthia thought. After a few seconds, she spoke.

"Yours will be a brighter future."

"That's all?"

"Yeah. But… but I thought I kind of could… make sure it happened. So that you could have the childhood she wanted, I guess."

"And Cynthia?"

"I was planning on it, but she's kind of… well, not hero material."

"But you are! I'm sure you could…"

"No! I mean, no. Besides, it's more fun if it's just you and me, right? I mean, for the hero stuff. "

Lucina decided she'd pressed too far already, and nodded.

"Yeah."

"That's the spirit! So, what do you want to do next?"

"Can we go flying?"

"Sounds good!"

With a kick, the pegasus launched into the sky, and Lucina looked down at the castle, the countryside, and the green land that would one day be hers. She sighed. No words came, so her thanks were silent. But everything she had was a gift. So many people gave so much, just so that she could be happy.

The least she could do was be grateful.

* * *

><p><strong>Owain: Lunatic in a Minor Key<strong>

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><p>The Dark Avenger of Destiny was no stranger to challenge and terror. In his life so far, he faced foes living and dead, mortal and divine! Nothing had broken him, nothing had slowed his quest for justice! But now, long after his greatest victory over the forces of DESTINY ITSELF, he found an enemy that matched his mettle, a force that might mean the end of everything he had accomplished.<p>

To put it less dramatically, Owain of Ylisse was about to beg his parents for a room. But he would never dream of putting it less dramatically.

It wasn't as bad as it could have been. Yes, Severa had said they needed some "time apart". But by her standards, that bordered on a love note. And it wouldn't be long. Just time to catch his breath. Make new plans. Put things back in order.

He knocked on the door.

"Mother! The wayward scion of the royal house returns! By the sacred sword of Sigurd…!"

"Owain! It's good to see you."

"Aye! Even in the darkest of times…"

Your father and I are going out of town for a while and your… brother needs someone to look after him. "

"But, I mean, that is…"

"Thank you soooo much. Bye!"

Lissa left the room in a rush. Owain's father followed her.

"Father! What conflagaration could vex…"

"Nya ha ha! Good to see you, son! Got to go. Take care!"

And they were gone. Owain stepped past the threshold into the den of terror, and found nothing. A nice, messy cottage in sight of the royal palace. Books open on every table, a few frogs hopping around, staves leaning at odd angles. He'd never seen it like this before, but it felt… right.

"DIE, EVILDOER!"

Someone stabbed Owain in the leg with a wooden practice sword. He turned and looked into his own face.

Well, what had been his face, once. The pint sized terror at his knee was eighteen years and far more near death experiences short of Owain the elder's life experience, but the same enthusiasm, the same white hair, the same energy. Owain hadn't seen his doppleganger since his birth, and was ill prepared for how… weird the experience would be. He went for the obvious.

"You stabbed me!"

"OWAIN DARK ANSWERS TO NO MAN! I AM VENGEANCE INCARNATE, THE DARKSWORD OF THE SOUL, THE GREAT ENIGMA! AVENGER MODE… ACTIVATE!"

"What are you doing?!"

Owain the lesser smiled.

"I'm Owain! The blood of heroes flows through my veins!"

"Why did that make you stab me?"

"You might be a fiendish double. I will live up to the first Owain, the great hero!"

"I'm Owain! HERO FROM THE FUTURE!"

Owain the lesser looked his older twin. His gaze rose and fell for several moments. Finally, he spoke.

"No you aren't."

Owain the elder had no response for thirty seconds. Then an answer came to him.

"Am so!"

He should have, on the whole, kept waiting a little longer.

"Nuh-uh. Owain Dark is eleventy feet tall and has glowing eyes an' breaths fire an' isn't afraid of anything."

"He wouldn't like being stabbed either. I mean, I don't like being stabbed!"

"Dad doesn't complain."

"Father is nearly impervious to pain! He didn't cry out when he was stabbed to death."

"The REAL Owain would know that dad wouldn't die. He'd just come back, 'cause he's the best. Other than Owain."

"I'm Owain!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh _infinity_."

Owain the elder shook his head. He was used to losing arguments. He was even used to losing arguments with small children. Losing an argument with himself, however, was a new low.

"Well, Lissa said I was in charge so there."

"If you're in charge you gotta make me a sandwich."

"Owain the Dark needs not make such frivolities! Mutton and, err, not ale… you're a little kid…"

Owain the elder stumbled into making a sandwich. His life was not going at all as he planned.

The next few days were more of the same. Owain had years of experience fighting bandits, armies, monsters, the undead. He knew thirty ways to kill a man, and thirty more to incapacitate. None of that helped him. None of that came close to helping him.

"OWAIN, AWAY!"

"TASTE VENGEANCE, FIEND! BURNING BLADE!"

"MY SWORD HAND HUNGERS!"

Owain wondered if this was what everyone around him felt all the time.

"GASP! The… thingy! It's all… what would Owain say? It's that thing."

Owain the elder shook his head. His insanity was much better rehearsed.

"MY SWORD HAND HUNGERS MY SWORD HAND HUNGERS MY SWORD HAND HUNGERS…"

Also, he could shut up for more than five seconds at a stretch. Owain the lesser hadn't mastered the art. When someone knocked at the door, Owain dashed at the chance for escape.

He ripped the door open.

"Mother! Father! Lo, for I stood long against the forces conspiring to corrupt my past self, but…"

It wasn't his parents.

"Hey Owain! How's my destined battle partner?"

"Morgan?"

"Yup! Figured you'd be here. Aunt Cynthia said she'd seen someone brooding on the roof when she did a flyover, and since I know Gerome isn't here, it had to be you."

Cousin (once removed) Morgan. Naga's gift to time paradoxes. Owain knew from experience that his normal attempts at combat banter would fall apart even faster than usual. There was no point in even trying.

"Yes. It's me."

A small blue haired boy poked his head out from behind Morgan.

"That's just what an imposter would say!"

Then he looked up.

"Oooh! It's Owain! It's Owain!"

Owain turned back to Morgan.

"Who is this?"

"My little brother, Mark. He's a big fan of yours."

"You have a little brother?"

"Twin brother. Mom and dad asked me to take care of him while they spent some time with me. The other one, obviously."

"I see."

Mark smiled.

"Of course you do! Owain sees everything with piercing eyes like a hawk! The undefeated champion of the world, the guardian of the night..."

Owain stared. It was uncommon enough for someone to take his act seriously. Full on hero worship was new.

"Indeed! By the mighty Missletainn, legendary demon blade of the ancients, it is I! OWAIN!"

A small voice emerged from the house behind him.

"He's lying."

"Ignore him."

"He's a dumb liar who lies. And is dumb."

Owain the elder prepared a response. It would be swift and decisive, like a blade through the falling cherry blossoms. The answer to finally lay his young double's doubts to rest. He thought on the answer longer than any adult should spend arguing with a five year old.

Mark took much less time to riposte.

"NUH-UH!"

"How do you know he's Owain, huh?"

"'cause my older sister said he was an' he looks like mom said Owain looks."

Mark stepped into the doorway to continue the argument. Owain was left outside with Morgan.

"So, uh. Long time."

"Yup."

"How's Lucina?"

"Good. She's just as good a mom as I knew she would be. Was. Is? I can't remember the right verb tenses. Ha ha."

"Ha."

"Well, I thought it was funny. But you don't. Guess I wouldn't either if I was in your position."

Morgan smiled. As always.

"So, Severa tossed you out on the streets, huh?"

"How did you know that?"

"Well, you just told me. Sorry about that! Boy, I bet she was furious. That must have been really funny to watch. She really gets mad sometimes. Like the one time when you got her the wrong kind of flowers, and then you..."

Morgan bent over with laughter.

"With the snake and she said…"

"Yes. I remember."

"Even mom laughed by the end of it. Sooo funny! You should have seen how red you both were."

"Yes."

"So, what else have you been doing? I bet you're going to say you had an epic adventure of burning justice, right?"

"Why do I even bother?"

"It's destiny, Owain! We're going to mess with each other for all time. Remember? Partners for all eternity?"

"I'm sorry I made that up."

"I'm not. You are the best at making stuff up."

Inside the house, Owain the lesser and Mark were still arguing, and from the sounds of it, they had escalated.

"Say! That! Isn't! Owain!"

Scuffling. A wind tome cracking open. Punches.

"Say! It! Is! OW!"

Books falling from a table. Frogs croaking.

"So, is that Owain in there?"

"I thought mom would raise him right. He's completely out of control."

"He didn't listen to your stories?"

"And he stabbed me in the leg."

"Lots of people stabbed you. He's missing out more with the stories."

"You spend more time with the family than I do. This is pretty much how it always goes, right?"

"Nope! Morgan the younger is pretty much the best little sister I could ask for. I'm such a thoughtful, caring person."

"What about Lucina… no. You're going to say she's great too."

"Kind of the best mom a girl could have. Also, I think Mark is setting little Owain on fire."

"Oh."

"We probably should go inside and help at some point."

"Indeed!"

Neither of them moved.

"Aaagh!"

"Ha! If Owain is so dumb, why are you on fire?"

"Because that's not Owain! And you're dumb!"

Morgan settled her head against her hands and leaned against the wall.

"Mark is totally going to win."

Owain almost nodded. The little snot was asking for a bruising. Then he thought again. Owain the lesser may have been, well, lesser, but the same blood of heroes flowed in his veins as in his own! If the lad would just accept training from a proper mentor, who knew what he could achieve? It was shameful, what he'd been thinking. He was OWAIN, hero! If he let one obnoxious snot stop him from encouraging the path of greatness, then what made him better than Gerome or, Naga help him, _Laurent_? Well, everything. But that wasn't the point.

"Nay! For the blood of heroes flows in the vein of yonder irritation, despite the veil before the eyes of mortal man!"

"So, I'd be able to see it?"

"Huh?"

Morgan's voice picked up a sing-song lilt.

"Guess who's a goddess?"

"What?"

She dropped the inflection.

"Well, sort of. I mean, dad was Grima. And I kinda have the only divine blood left? I've got a cult somewhere."

"Fiendish blood of purest villainy. It would avail you not against AVENGER MODE!"

"Also a castle in the outrealms said I was above the gods or something. That was a really good family vacation."

Owain twisted towards his cousin.

"What? Seriously? You went to Castle Apotheosis without me?"

"Oh! That was the name! Thanks, Owain. I totally forgot!"

"Unfaiiir! That place is the ultimate destiny of heroes! The greatest height for champions of legend. And you didn't even know the name?"

"I forget a lot. Oh! It had a gift shop! I totally got something for you!"

Morgan ruffled through a pack on the ground. She dropped several swords, an axe, beaten and battered tomes, and a shield in brilliant gold before she reached a crumpled piece of clothing.

"Here we go. The Anna at the counter said it was called a 'T-Shirt'. It seemed like a great gift for you."

It unfurled into a shirt with a stylized print of the house Ylisse crest. On the back, it had a simple text.

"House Ylisse. The blood of champions flows in their veins!"

Owain looked over the shirt.

"I wrote your name on the wall too."

Owain nodded. He was about to respond when Mark yelled from inside the house.

"It isn't my fault! Owain did it!"

"Nuh uh! You stacked the books up to jump on my head an'..."

"Nuh-uh! You were the one who had to read it!"

A third voice moaned.

Owain the lesser and Mark screamed.

"We should go inside now."

A fourth voice, like the third. It howled from rotting lungs. Nothing with a pulse could make that noise.

Owain kicked down the door and ran. Owain the lesser and Mark were backing away from the wall. Two Risen, undead soldiers with axes the size of a man. Owain didn't even think. His sword fell on its own. An arm hit the ground. A foot hit a corpse's chest, staggering it. Sword again, and the risen faded into mist. Then Owain looked at the wall. Or, more accurately, he looked at where the wall should have been. Instead, there was nothing. The house looked into a barren wasteland. It looked like home. It looked like the world he ran from years ago.

Owain walked to the other side of the wall. The east side was still there. He walked back. The west side was gone with nothing but a ruined future and distant screams.

Morgan shoved her way into the room.

"Okay, that's kind of weird."

"Kind of?"

Morgan shrugged. It was a classic "I've seen weirder" shrug, bordering on "not that I'm bored, but I'm bored."

"There were Risen coming out of it!"

"Oh. That's a little weirder. We should probably make a wall of bookcases and say we didn't see anything when your mom asks."

"That's… not a bad idea."

It was. It was a very bad idea.

"Really?"

"The blood of the first exalt flows in both our veins, Morgan, drawing us forward to greatness!"

"Or bookcase shoving."

"Or… you killed the mood again."

"Oh yeah."

Owain rammed the shelf with all his might. The very forces of the universe stood against him, but he defied them before, and he would defy them again. The very forces of a bookshelf could hardly stall him!

The walls fell into a makeshift barricade. Owain looked on his work and smiled. Owain the lesser stared in shock.

"Wow."

"By the juggled axe of Kieron! OWAIN THE DARK AVENGER stood against the undying hordes and felled them. For my past will not be abandoned, no matter my efforts. THE BLOOD OF HEROES will always flow to conflict and victory, but at a terrible price."

Morgan nodded.

"See? Owain isn't just a ridiculous lunatic with delusions of everything!"

"Wow."

Mark started clapping. It was almost loud enough to drown out the pounding behind the bookcase. The increasing pounding. The dead were flowing behind the wall, and it wouldn't be long before the bookshelves fell. It wasn't the time to bask in adulation and/or watch your younger self eat crow. It was the time to save the world from the fruits of your own family's insanity.

Owain looked to the tables. Mostly, the room was just a mess from being attacked by the undead after being attacked by small boys. But one table was hovering. Not what children or Risen did to books. He looked to the book, then to Morgan. Morgan winced and turned to the kids.

"Who opened the book?"

Mark and Owain the lesser pointed at each other and started yelling. Morgan and Owain the greater glared until the babble died down.

"Well, Owain the Dark Avenger would normally wreck bloody vengeance on whoever lied to him, but I think I can keep him calm. Just… one of you did open the book."

"...Yes."

"Don't do that. Great uncle Henry is crazy. Umm… could someone…"

An army punched through the bookcase and grabbed Morgan's arm. Owain dived for the book and slammed it shut. The wall screamed and snapped back in place. The arm fell to the ground and the world snapped back to what passed for normal.

Several decapitated body parts sat on the floor. Morgan turned to Owain the lesser and Mark..

"Remember, if you're asked, it was like this when we got here, and you didn't see anything. Also, go to Owain's room and think about what you did."

Mark and Owain shuffled off with a few glances at the floor. Morgan and Owain stayed back.

"So, that could have been worse."

"OWAIN THE DESTROYER has seen a thousand greater foes fall before the might of AVENGER MODE."

"Like your sword hand? I hear it's been causing you a lot of trouble since Severa left. Seen a lot of difficult fights."

"Restraining my sword hand is… hey!"

Morgan smiled innocently.

"What?"

Owain looked at Morgan. You never could tell.

"Right. Justice never sleeps."

Morgan slapped her head.

"Oh, there was something else I was going to tell you!"

"What?"

"I saw Severa yesterday. She said she was sorry."

"No she didn't."

"Welllll, she said she was sorry and wanted to see you again in the way that she says she loves her family. You have to know what she means."

"What did she really say?"

"Let me think. 'Ugh, what is that idiot boyfriend of mine thinking, I need to see him yesterday, if he doesn't get here soon, he can sleep outside for the next MONTH.' Or something like that. I was thinking about tome stackers."

"And I'm stuck here. Curse cruel fate, separating lovers and heroes…"

"I could cover for you."

"You mean that?"

"I can play you like a violin. A younger version of you can't be much harder to deal with. Go on. And tell me next time I see you if you crash and burn!"

Owain left the house before Morgan finished the sentence.

It was a fell task. A fell task indeed. Owain Dark had seen his share of nightmares, but this forced him to the limits beyond which a lesser man would fall. But in the end, he had triumphed over the fiendish grip of, well, minor relationship difficulties, a week at his parents, and a small child.

(Well, and the undead invading from a hell dimension. But the undead were much less trouble.)

Owain was victorious. And in the bright light of… sunset, he knew that his life would continue its path towards glory. For he was OWAIN THE AVENGER.

* * *

><p><strong>Nah: Noble Lady of Ylisse<strong>

* * *

><p>"But really. All that matters is what House Licht has to say on the matter."<p>

Nah smiled. It wasn't a novelty anymore. It hadn't been a novelty for centuries. But it was still nice to be respected like this. Kings and Emperors would stop everything to listen to what she had to say. Her father's noble house went, in her time, from a forgotten little also-ran to, well, House Licht, most respected family in the world. And now the Exalt needed her to settle an international issue.

"It's not terribly complicated. Our friendship with Plegia goes back to before my birth. Valm has been an aggressor more than once, and has not been trustworthy in past trade dealings. We favor Plegia."

Everyone nodded. And it was settled. She leaned back in her chair. The model of serenity. Ageless and beautiful and composed, the rock of Ylisse.

And then what looked like a teenage girl bounced into the room, over the diplomats and nobles, and onto Nah's chair. She then proceeded to repeatedly drum on the most respected head in Ylisse with open hands.

"How's my favorite daughter?"

"I was talking to the exalt, mom!"

"But I'm booorrrrrrreeeeddddd."

Nah looked around the room in desperate hope. No-one else would even make eye contact with her. Which made sense. When you've spent your entire life treating someone as the voice of wisdom, watching them flail around helpless while someone who looks less than half their age pokes them with a stick isn't good for anyone's dignity.

"Mom, this is important!"

"It's always important. Come on! You know you want to play!"

Nah winced. She didn't.

"Why is it important we do anything right now? Can't it wait?"

"Nah!"

Nah sighed. It was a long time since anyone made that stupid joke. She thought she could leave it behind. But then, there was her mother. Again.

"Is that my name, or are you just saying no?"

"Both."

Nah sighed again.

"I'm sorry, everyone. But I need to discuss things. With my mother."

Someone coughed.

"THAT'S your mother?"

Nah winced again. She'd tried to project an air of dignity, and that did involve family stories. Not LYING, per se. But there were things you emphasized and things you didn't. Ancient dragon who fought in a war for the salvation of humanity? Yes. That you brought up. Terminally immature, horrible with naming things, and prone to fits of… well, insanity?

That you kept quiet.

"I have to speak with… _my mother_ outside. I'm sorry to interrupt such an important discussion…"

The Exalt herself stood up.

"If the ancient divine dragon wishes to speak with her daughter, that must be of greater import than any trade dispute. Go in peace, milady."

Nah nodded.

"Thank you, your majesty."

"I've been given your council. My father, and his mother, and her father, and many more before them owe no small portion of their success and the peace of the realm to your wisdom. If you need a moment's refresh at the original wellspring, then it would be a poor ruler indeed who would refuse it."

"Thank you."

Nah walked outside, circled, poked, and prodded by Nowi.

"What was so important that I had to be interrupted in the middle of a meeting with the Exalt."

"You do those _all the time_."

"Because they're always important, mom. I have to be a mature and responsible adult. Something you never seemed to figure out how to do."

"And you forgot how to play outside. I saw you were done in there! Come on!"

Nah sighed.

"I was done with one thing. And why now?"

Nowi smiled.

"Because it's about time!"

"And why me? You have another daughter. The voice is sleeping, you could bother her. Or, I don't know, ask one of the other dragons? We aren't a dying species, mother."

"But they're not you."

"Which means they aren't busy. You have more in common with them than me anyway. You went to war. The ghost of Plegia, the Voice, my older sister who you had to give the same name as me, they all have more free time than I do, and they have stories that I don't."

"Oh."

Nah grimaced.

"I didn't mean that! I know you love me and I do… we're family. It's just…"

It's just she was a second run? That she knew she'd never be a replacement for her older sister, that she couldn't share the same jokes?

There wasn't a good way to put it. Any of it. Nah tried again.

"I just know you could find someone who knew dad better."

"Why?"

"Because I don't! I live on his family name. His face is on the family crest, but I can't remember anything about him and talking to you just makes everything worse!"

"But we spent bunches of time playing together! _Bunches_."

"I've lived for centuries. I've had to juggle a thousand claims, see the entire world. A few weeks I can almost remember with father before he… and I was born so late! What did you think I'd remember? Why do you keep rubbing it in my face?"

Nowi's face clenched. She didn't seem well suited to crying at the best of times, and this was worse than the usual.

"I just thought…"

"Don't cry. You're… I couldn't take it if you cried. Not right now. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's okay."

Oh, gods. She was sobbing already. Nah checked a sigh. In a few minutes, she'd be crying too. The rock of Ylisse, the woman who might well be the only reason it was even a country, sobbing like a little girl over something that happened centuries ago.

Crying over something she hardly remembered.

It was several minutes before either of them could talk again. Nowi could speak first. A lifetime of crying had prepared her better than Nah's centuries of repression.

"He loved you."

Nah sniffed.

"I know. I know. I didn't… he didn't stay long enough for me to see it. But I know."

Nowi tried to smile.

"They're never around long."

"I know. Why do you think I spend so much time trying to help Ylisse? People… I buried my husband, my daughters and sons, almost everyone I've known but you. Humans just die. At least nations stay longer. I can keep them alive."

"Maybe."

"I can! Three centuries ago they couldn't find an heir. Over the last century, every house but Licht lost its status to one thing or another! I did that. I couldn't keep dad, or Marcus, or… or Nagi. I couldn't do anything for them. But I did this! I built something."

Nowi shook her head.

"Not that. You're super! I just meant it isn't alive."

"It's not dead!"

"It can't joke or rampage or eat stew with you either. It's just like an old rock. It's great! But it isn't as great as having someone you can be friends with."

"Well, it's all I have!"

"Nope!"

"Nope."

"You have me, and I have you. And your sister. And friends. They might go away, but that's better than never having them."

"Of course it is. Of course you'd say that. You just skim over life, running through all the paces and never letting it touch you. I sunk."

"Oh. So you're the only one that hurts."

"I didn't say that!"

Nowi smiled. Nah slid back. Her smile was never like that. For as long as she knew her, mother's smile was open and inviting. Maybe too light, maybe too easy a smile. And sometimes it broke and she just went and cried for minutes or hours or even days (once, when father died). But the smile came back, with an innocent stupidity.

This smile wasn't nice.

"Do you know you were the first, Nah?"

"The first what?"

"The first manakete with a human father."

"I… didn't think about it. I mean, I had a sister…"

"You think I didn't know? That I thought your father would last? I loved him. I went in knowing how it would hurt. I knew he would die, and I'd be left alone again. I didn't know if you'd come, or if you'd last like me instead of going away like him."

"What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry I was used to it when I came?"

"Do you know why I didn't let you meet your grandparents? Because they were dead for centuries before you were born. Because everyone went away."

"I didn't think about it."

The smile faded back to its peaceful pattern.

"Nope! Because I could deal with it. But I knew you'd be luckier. Because you'd have a sister, and parents, and friends. Maybe not as many as everyone else, but you'd have them."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know. But sometimes you need to remember to have fun. And that there's people around to help you up!"

Nah smiled.

"That's why you came here?"

"And your sister was sleeping."

* * *

><p><strong>Kjelle: Restless Knight<strong>

* * *

><p>Kjelle sat in the corner of a tavern and stripped the armor from her left arm.<p>

Blood welled up. _Typical_. It hadn't even been a real fight. A few bandits on the road here got smart, then they got stupid. Then she got stupid, and she got her arm sliced before she put them all down. Five on one? She used to handle five on one in her sleep.

She ripped a strip of cloth off her undershirt and tied it into a bandage. Good enough. She slipped her left gauntlet back on.

"Hey, baby! You can't stop the show just when it's getting good!"

_Ugh_.

He was just a drunk. Kjelle picked up her cup and ignored him. It was swill, but it was cheap swill. She could get used to cheap swill pretty easy.

"HEY! Are you ignoring me?"

"Yes."

The man broke a bottle on the table.

"I think maybe you should stop. Me and my friends don't take kindly to people ignoring us."

Kjelle sighed.

"You should get used to disappointment."

He charged. Kjelle leaned an inch to the left, grabbed his arm with her right, and twisted the bottle into his deltoid muscles. He screamed in pain and fell to the floor. Kjelle returned to her drink.

"You stabbed him!"

"He did most of the work. Now, if you want to join him on the floor, I'd be willing to take all you weaklings on, together or one at a time. If you don't, then get lost. I'll let you take him to a cleric if you want."

The men dragged their friend out the door with a curse. In the corner of the room, a young woman looked on in awe. When the men were gone, she rushed to Kjelle's side.

"That was amazing!"

"Not really. They were drunks who never held a sword in their lives."

Amazing was more than a decade ago, when she fought armies of the dead on the back of a dragon god. _That_ was a fight.

"But they attacked you first!"

"A handful of thugs aren't a match for a knight."

"You're a knight?"

"The best in the world. Why?"

"We need a knight! Bandits are coming for our village. They take everything we have, burn our fields, and kill anyone who fights back."

"Picking on the weak, fighting people who can't fight back? They make me sick already."

"I've been given all the money we have to hire a knight. If you could, I know it's not much, but it's all we have."

Kjelle looked into her hands. A handful of gold. Not enough to repair her armor, let alone hire a decent mercenary.

"Keep it."

"But we're asking you to risk your life!"

"And if I was a mercenary, that would matter. But a knight can't turn down people in need."

The scars on her face, arms, and everywhere else testified to that. Playing the hero meant playing the sucker a lot of the time.

"I don't know what to say, I mean you'll do it, I mean if we had more money…"

"Just say 'thank you', and we can get going. And make sure no-one gets in my way. I'll have enough trouble without any idiots and weaklings slowing me down."

"Thank you!"

"Fine. Now let's get going. "

Kjelle followed her new guide out the door. She only stopped to toss a few coins on the bar counter for her drinks. They weren't good barkeepers, but she wasn't much of a customer, so it all came out in the wash.

"We even brought a horse for you! I mean, if you're a knight, that is, I mean…"

"It's fine. I can ride."

Not in combat, and not well, but the horse didn't have an ounce of fight, and it was faster than walking.

The ride was uneventful. A week through backwood villages and farmland without a sign of conflict. The usual bandits were rare enough to start, and the rare peasants whose need overcame their conscience scattered when they saw her armor. No wonder a knight impressed them. Most of the villagers didn't reach the level of pawn.

There wasn't much to differentiate the town they were headed for from the other patches of habitation in the wilderness. A few more houses. Lights. Something that could pass for a town square. None of it matched Ylisstol, but some of the little touches implied civilization. The most obvious sign of all was a smell of fear that you didn't need to be a manakete to pick up. Kjelle hated places like this. Places so beaten down that they couldn't look anymore. It reminded her too much of home. Too much of where she grew up. She fought half of her life to avoid that fate, and now she was spending the rest of her life saving the people who didn't even try.

"I found a knight!"

The villagers peeked out their doors and windows. After a minute, a man emerged from the largest hut.

"A knight?"

Kjelle nodded.

"Better than any man."

"A single knight? You were sent to hire an army!"

"With the money you offered, you'd be lucky to get one incompetent sellsword. Instead you got me. You weren't ever going to get anything better. Just tell me when they're coming."

The woman who hired her smiled.

"So you can prepare? I've heard the stories! You'll teach us to defend ourselves, run us through drills, assemble traps…"

"Do I look like a nursery teacher? I don't want a bunch of amateurs getting into everything. If I'm going to solve your stupid problems, just hide and don't get in my way."

"You can't do it alone!"

"Watch me."

"But…"

"But nothing! If you could fight on your own, you wouldn't need me. You need me, and I can't abandon people in need if I want to call myself a knight. So tell me when they're coming."

"In the morning. When the sun rises."

"Good. I'll wait for them."

The old man who seemed to run the town coughed.

"We have a room for you. If you need it."

"Thank you. I don't."

Kjelle leaned against a wall and closed her eyes. Not a good sleep, but it would be enough for a night. Better sleep might try to keep her at sunrise, and that would make the whole fight a chore.

She opened her eyes to the sun and the distant sound of horses. She checked the chain on her heavy axe. Stable. Her lance was free of dents and rust. Her armor? Well, she knew that was perfect.

Before long, bandits entered the main square. Eight, counting the ones trying to hide in the peripherals to set up an ambush on anyone who stood up to them. Kjelle looked at the weapons. Cheap mass produced crap. The scars were self applied to look tough, the horses would run off at the first sign of trouble, and most damning of all, not a one of them had a halfway decent set of armor. This wouldn't be much of a fight.

"Well, look what we got here. The little villagers bought themselves a bodyguard. A hero. You know what we do to heroes?"

"No. But I know you've never met a knight."

The leader of the bandits slapped his cheek and faked shock.

"Oh, no! A knight! Never thought I'd see one this far from Ylisse. Mostly because those stupid honorable dastards wouldn't last five minutes without creature comforts. So, how you think we haven't met any knights?"

"You're still alive."

"Say that again. It'll make it better when I run you through the village beaten and bloody, on your hands and knees, before I show them what happens to anyone who tries to mess with the Sunken Valley Bandits."

"Why waste breath? You heard me already. I'll get to the point."

Kjelle pointed her lance at the chief bandit.

"I challenge you to honorable combat. One on one, quarter given when asked. I win, you leave these people alone forever. If I lose, I leave."

"Lookit the little baby knight. Wants her precious fair fight, so she can run away when she gets a little boo-boo."

"I want to be clear. You're refusing me?"

"Yeah. Why? You gonna cry? You shocked?"

"No. But I thought you might want to live."

Kjelle threw a spear through the man's heart, pinning him to the ground. One of his henchmen charged her. She pulled an axe and removed his head before he noticed she had a second weapon in reserve, and the followthrough took down a third bandit. A quick lance charge killed a fourth, and by the time the bandits knew they were in a fight, half their number were dead.

The right time to ask again.

"Leave, and you live. I won't ask again."

"You'll regret this! We know people, and we have resources! If you think you'll get away with this…"

"Was that 'I will leave quietly' or 'please, Kjelle, kill me'? I'm fine either way."

"We're leaving. And fine, we've got plenty of other places to go for. But you? You're dead."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?"

"No. A promise."

They left. Kjelle didn't bother to watch. They were scared, and they wouldn't be back until she was dead. Maybe not even then.

She burned the bodies (as much out of habit as anything else), and walked into the largest building in the town.

"You don't need to worry any more."

"That's amazing. I saw what you did."

Fear in his eyes. As usual.

"It was nothing. You need to learn to stand up for yourselves some day."

"We'd be happy to have you, if you'd teach us."

They wouldn't. It was nothing but words. Even if she wanted to take the offer, the whole town would be terrified.

"I can't. Find someone else."

She didn't want to. It wasn't her kind of town. Her kind of people. She didn't need more hangers on, or people around only out of fear. She needed mentors, or better, equals. But she'd had bad luck on that front. They left or she did.

Mother, dead. Father dead. Alone for two years training under an old knight until he was stabbed in the back and left to rot. And when she met her sister again, it wasn't long until she left. Vanished into the ether. She tried to stay, but watching her own birth, or close to? That was insane. She was just casting a shadow over her own… self? It wasn't worth it. Lucina had been right. Her mother and father were dead. Best to let the local versions live their own lives. If it meant leaving friends and the only decent sparring partner she had behind, so be it.

"Please. At least for a night!"

The mayor (or whatever they called him) was afraid, but he feared Kjelle less than bandit reprisal. Smart of him. Not brilliant, but at least he cared for the town more than he cared about his own safety.

"Fine. One night."

"You can have my room. I won't need it."

Kjelle nodded and muttered something halfway between thanks and I'm fine on my own.

The day was wasted on drinks supplied by every farmer in the town and armor repair. Scratches were cleaned, paint was refreshed, dents were hammered out. People were ignored. They didn't know what her life was like, and she didn't care about theirs. It didn't leave much to talk about.

At sundown she walked into her room and tried for the sleep of the just. It didn't come, but exhaustion sleep had its own appeal.

She woke up to the sounds of armor on the roof. Before she could dress and pick up a weapon, someone was in her room, pointing a blade at her throat.

Kjelle rolled back and grabbed a piece of armor plating. Shoulder guard. It blocked the sword blow and Kjelle kicked her attacker. The enemy's armor blunted Kjelle's attack, but it bought her time to scramble. Armoring up was a ten minute process at the best of times, and this was closer to the worst.

She grabbed her lance and ducked as her opponent threw an axe at her head. Her lance glinted in the moonlight.

Her opponent sighed.

"Stop fighting and die, you little turd! Some of us have things to do."

Kjelle recognized the voice. The better part of a decade wasn't enough to kill the memories.

"Severa?"

The sword fell.

"Kjelle?"

"It's me."

The woman who attacked her lit a match.

"I guess it is. Same stupid perfect abs. And you have to look good with scars too. UGH."

"Why are you trying to kill me?"

"Why did you kill four people this morning? Gawds, Kjelle. I thought you wanted to be a knight or something stupid. Now you're killing people and getting mercenaries to hunt you down. If you didn't have someone dumb enough to care about you…"

"I'd have probably killed them too."

"Probably. Most of the people trying to be mercenaries make you want to puke. So, why are you killing people?"

" They were bandits terrorizing a town. I offered them a chance to retreat. It's not my fault they didn't take it."

Severa leaned against the wall.

"Great. Just typical."

"Bandits always try to blame someone else."

"I meant you! You always charged in like this. You got into fights without asking what would happen if you lost, and then you don't do anything afterwards to clean up if you won. You always thought being honorable made everything okay!"

"Someone has to look after the weak and helpless."

"Great. And who looks after them once you're gone?"

Kjelle opened her mouth. Severa held up a finger.

"No, wait. Who looks after you? Ugh!"

"I can take care of myself."

"All those scars really prove it. Gawds you're lucky they look so good on you."

"They're badges of honor."

"They're badges of you being too dumb to know when to stop! You know your parents ask me about you every time I see them? Not that I care."

"They're better off without me."

"That must be why your stupid little sisters ask me about their hero every time I see them. You know how many stupid stories about you I've had to make up? Lucina wants to be you when she grows up!"

"She said that?"

"Yes! Only now I'm going to have to tell her that you're an idiot who wants to get herself killed."

"You're one to talk."

"Hey! Who almost got killed tonight?"

"At least I didn't get fooled by bandits."

"What?"

"You let lowlife scum buy you. At least I kept my honor. You're nothing better than a hired thug. You just look a little better."

"Hey, I work hard at that!"

"Fine. You look a lot better."

"Thank you. Not enough people appreciate the effort it takes to keep from getting all grubby and covered in blood. Not that you know."

"Because I don't work for bandits."

"It's not like they held up a sign saying they were bandits, Kjelle."

"They were pretty obvious. Did all the money get in your way?"

"At least I can afford my own rooms. You need to pay attention to yourself. Look at the bags under your eyes! Even you can't make those look good."

"It's not important."

"It's going to get you stabbed to death like an idiot! And I don't want to see you die!"

"And I don't want to see you working for dishonorable scum, so I guess neither of us is going to be happy!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Severa sighed.

After a minute, she spoke.

"Now we're both idiots. Look, I don't know why you went off on your own and haven't talked to any of us in years. I'm sure it seemed like a good reason, but we all miss you. Sully misses you, Chrom misses you, Owain misses you, Lissa misses you, Robin misses you, mom misses you…"

"They're better off."

"I'm not! I miss you, Kjelle, alright? You ran off without telling anyone, and I had to explain it to everyone when all I knew was that my best friend was gone for some stupid reason! I've missed you every stupid day since you left! You were the most important person in my life."

Kjelle blinked.

"You mean that?"

"Yes. Don't make me say it again!"

Kjelle tilted her head.

"Wellll, I guess you need someone around to make sure you don't work for bandits again. And SOMEONE needs to keep you from getting soft."

"Someone who needs to learn how to negotiate for a better deal so she doesn't go broke protecting peasants and ruin our budget?"

Kjelle smiled.

"Sounds like a plan. I guess I'll have you'll have to introduce me to your parents again."

"Ugh. Mom loves your dad too much already. Having you in the family will just make everything worse."

* * *

><p><strong>(Author's Note: It seems to be a custom to put a note at the bottom of your first chapter. Well, tradition is the democracy of the dead, and respecting it seems prudent. Be a shame to lose out on the one thing arguing for you once you're gone.<strong>

**First, standard issue thanks for reading and hopes that you enjoyed. Boilerplate, but sincere and polite. Moving slightly closer to the specifics, in case it wasn't clear enough already there's no guarantees any one story is in continuity with the others. Figure Chrom marrying Sully in the last one and Sumia in the first was enough of an indicator, but you never know.**

**First batch is post-Grima. The rest won't be.**

**Individual story notes**

**Cynthia: 'Lin' is the younger Morgan. Kid's named Linfan in the European non-English version, and the Avatar is implied to have been friends with Lyn, even if they can't remember it. I figured that, while the other second generation characters would have their own lives enough that their iterations in the main timeline could share a name without causing too much trouble, Morgan's tendency to spend all her time with her dear old dad would mean giving her younger iteration the same name would be confusing for everyone.**

**Owain: Owain always seemed the least suited to run into a younger version of himself. Just enough self awareness to realize how insane the whole thing was, and an ego fragile enough to shatter at his own blows. And that's pretty much how this came together. Morgan was just the best person to push Owain over the edge.**

**Nah: The usual for dragons in Fire Emblem is to pretty much ditch society for centuries at a time. Which, if you want to keep them distant and mysterious, is probably the right call. On the other hand, when someone's half human and born into the nobility, well, that leaves ducking out less of an option. Especially with someone as serious-minded as Nah. Thus, this.**

**Kjelle: What can I say? I like the contrast at work with Kjelle. On the one hand, she's a knight, and she takes it seriously. Defender of the weak, bulwark against those who seek to exploit them, fighting and dying for the common man. On the other, she really doesn't like the weak. At all. Put them together, and you have a nice internal conflict.**

**As for the ending, well, Harvest Scramble. ****)**


	2. Family reunion

**Interlude: Family reunion**

* * *

><p>"MORGAN!"<p>

The girl ducked beneath a table, and wondered why someone was yelling her name. It wasn't that she lacked reasons to offend. It was more an excess. She wasn't trying to make enemies, of course, but she had to test stimuli, know how everyone would react in high pressure situations. Sometimes, that meant doing things that hurt squad cohesion. Other times that meant luring Laurent into a pit trap and running away laughing. But it was all for the good of the army!

...Also fun. It was very fun. But telling people you lured them into a nest of wild boars for fun made them a lot angrier than when you told them it was a training exercise. When both were true, it paid to lead with the benevolent excuse.

She looked up from beneath the table for her accuser. It couldn't be too bad a situation, right? It was a whole WEEK since she'd gotten the bears into the camp. Besides, dad said she was in charge of this little expedition. If anyone tried to yell at her, she was the authority until they met up with dad, mom, and grandpa in the main army. If things stayed on schedule, that was weeks to set up a charm offensive.

It was Kjelle. That made sense. Intense, prone to loud outbursts, recently on a scouting assignment…

Morgan jumped to her feet. Right. She'd sent Kjelle out to find out more about the region. War going on, and the resistance wasn't doing well. If they could find a region that didn't like Walhart with a relatively light military presence, it might be a good place to resupply, reinforce, and make long term plans. At least, that was something like what dad said the reason was. Morgan had her suspicions that keeping some of the more… eccentric members of the army out of the way for delicate political negotiations played a part. Less risk of revealing the future thing (or anything else that might make Chrom look crazy), safer environment for her.

Morgan made sure not to pass on those suspicions. No need to make everyone else distrust her. More. She nodded to Kjelle.

"Here I am! What's the report?"

"Why were you hiding under a table?"

"Strategy things. It's not important right now."

Kjelle sighed.

"I found a few bandits."

"Oh. Did we start a war?"

"Not if they can take a little beating without crying back to their bosses. Even if we did, they were pathetic. Expecting people to just roll over at the smallest show of force."

"So, we started a war. While already at war. Dad is not going to be happy."

"It's just bandits anyway. We'll be fine. That isn't the important thing."

Morgan considered telling Kjelle her "We'll be fine" was a little past most of the army's "Fall back! Retreat!". She focused on the task at hand.

"So, what made this interesting?"

"The bandits were telling the villagers to give up their money in the name of Exalt Chrom."

"...That doesn't sound like Grandpa."

Kjelle rolled her eyes. Morgan shrugged. It wasn't the most believable story to her, either, but it was the best fit for the evidence as far as she could tell. Amnesia didn't leave her primed to argue with the one person she knew she could trust.

"No. The Exalt's not going to resort to petty banditry. He's a knight for the gods's sakes! He would never leave worthless peasants to suffer while he lived in luxury."

"Even if he somehow had forces out here. Right! Making new plans!"

"What new plans do we need? We crush them, liberate the cowardly idiots in the villages, and report back that Walhart doesn't have what it takes to challenge us out here. I can handle it."

"Except Chrom put me in charge. And I think he'd like to know more about someone kind of using his name? I mean, I think someone using my name would… be a problem. Unless it's me. I mean, if I'm going to go back, that means I have to go forward first, so that means…"

Kjelle walked away before Morgan could finish the thought. She was still working out the mechanics when Gerome walked in. Morgan stopped the thought immediately. There were more important things to consider. Like Gerome! And Gerome's abs! And to a much lesser extent whatever Gerome wanted to brood about today! Morgan prepared for a speech on how she didn't exist, how her illusory history was proof Lucina should see through the faked past and return to what mattered, or on how cute a wyvern Minerva was, yes she was. (The last only came when Gerome thought no-one was listening.) Mom promised Gerome could be useful and intelligent as an aid once you gained his trust, and Morgan wasn't the kind to miss out on a tactical advantage. Even if getting it took forever.

Then Morgan looked at the man's face. It was hard to tell under the mask, even with practice, but he seemed more stressed than usual.

"We have a small army of bandits moving for our camp. If we can move out of their path, it may be our best hope. Even if it leaves the inhabitants of this illusory world to their fate, I see nothing but death in this fight."

"Small meaning they're very short?"

Morgan tried her winning smile.

"What kind of an imbecile asks that?"

"One who needs to know if we're really fighting a bunch of preschoolers. Because I think we have the forces to handle that level of problem! See, we just hide everyone under a blanket and then they'll think we left! Or maybe we could..."

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"No. That's probably Kjelle starting a fight with them. Without finding anything out. I'm just trying to put a happy face on it."

"We aren't fighting children. We're fighting experienced killers, grown fat on the fruits of terrified labor from hapless villagers. Alone, they may be weak and cowardly, but in force, they are a scourge almost as terrible as that faced in reality. "

"Great! Thanks for being a sunny beacon of optimism!"

Morgan started running the numbers. She had a handful of archers, some light infantry, and a scouting unit of pegasus. An excess of force for recon. For full battle, it wasn't nearly enough. And they'd make an example of the force. They'd have to! It was banditry 101 that you never let someone get away if they made you look weak.

She tried to focus. Dad said there was no such thing as a hopeless fight. As long as one person could fight, hope would never… Hey! He said he got that from mom! Something else! Morgan shook her head. Focus. What advantages did she have? Well, better scouting information. The ability to choose the field of battle, considering the enemy probably didn't know she knew that they knew… right. Another tangent.

And most importantly, she had some of the best soldiers alive. Full scale battle was out of the question. But a quick strike at the head of the enemy, with Gerome, Owain, Kjelle, and the other Shepherds with her? Any one of them could outfight a small platoon of soldiers. Kjelle was worth more than some divisions! As long as they could keep the engagement area enclosed, avoid losing the advantage, maybe quality could take on quantity. It worked for her before on the board, even if her dad still won six of ten. And, really, how bad could a few bandits be on their own?

Owain interrupted the thought when he entered the room.

"Forsooth! I bear grim tidings! For terrible trials stand in our path, and even the blood of heroes may face that we cannot prevail against!"

"You said the same thing about eating a whole bear. And you did that when I forced you to!"

"But that was… I still can't believe… I still…. Ahem! But even that challenge pales before the newest opposition we face!"

Morgan smiled. Well, at least it would be creatively phrased bad news.

"What?"

"Word has come of mighty bandits plaguing the region! Enemies that strike down the staunchest of fighters, robbing the land under a false banner of our own beloved monarch!"

"Yup! Kjelle met them. She beat up a dozen of them."

Owain's face froze. Morgan winced. She didn't mean to kill his enthusiasm! This early! It was way more fun later, when he was about to finish.

"I'm sure she left the best ones for you? I'm making plans already."

"But even if we face such enemies, they ride with a warrior worthy of our attention, a foe I would dare call a rival, even to our glorious leader! A rider on a winged steed, armor bright as the sun, heart as black as pitch! War is her escort, death her helpmeet! For what can stand against…"

"So, they have a pegasus knight? I mean a good one."

"Yes."

See, that was when you killed his buzz. Morgan smiled, and ran the numbers. Well. Not many people got attention like that, and most of the ones she knew were in the Shepherds. That was champion and hero territory. That was a major problem. Her whole plan revolved around being able to clean house with Kjelle and Gerome. (And maybe Owain, if he could keep his head in the game.) If they were fielding people on that level, well, even one changed the whole equation. Focusing on a duel with an equal meant you weren't ready with a wind spell when archers aimed at your larynx, or you couldn't keep the focus to deflect a charging stallion back at its own lines. Quantity had a quality of its own, and even if you were worth twenty soldiers, someone else worth eleven meant they only needed nine more grunts to polish you off.

One advantage, negated! And that was assuming the pegasus knight was 'just' on Phila's level. Someone who could beat, say, Kjelle? Retreat would be the right call. 100 percent. But then the village would be burnt in retribution, no question. And Chrom would be blamed, which meant blowback all the way up and down the coast. Improved supplies for Walhart. Probably more losses for them, down the road. And dad would blame himself. Morgan knew he would. It was part of being too perfect a father. She couldn't do that to him. So, she had to achieve the impossible.

Basic job of any good tactician. She'd make dad proud or die in the attempt! She'd… try not to die in the attempt.

"You're planning for another duel of destiny, Owain? I thought we had something special!"

Morgan gave him the sad puppydog eyes. It wasn't hard to play Owain. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and when you needed to push him around the board, you poked at it. Kjelle, you made it a challenge to her honor. Gerome was a little harder to work with, but if you let him think he came up with the idea himself, it was a fairly smooth operation. That was something she had over the enemy, if she was listing edges. Maybe the last thing she had. She knew how people worked. Hers and, with a little time, theirs. Trying to intimidate Kjelle? She knew that wouldn't work the first time she met her!

"Our battles are written in the stars! You as the trusted ally and daughter of my sworn commander, she an implacable enemy! Torn between the two worlds, the DARK AVENGER must stand alone in a path of blood!"

"I have good news, then! We're probably in for a fight by tomorrowish. I know, I'm just so generous."

Owain's face turned into jelly. Morgan smiled.

And the smile vanished as quick as it came. Right. Probable death tomorrow. Not time for smiling! At least, not if she wanted anyone to trust her judgement. Maayyybe with a few more wins under her belt she could get away with 'the tactician so crazy that she welcomes death', but for the moment, she would just look like an idiot. Thinking would have to cover… okay. Even with the Peg Knight, she was better off with close quarters and small units. The main army could be used to fortify the village, keep the goodwill and handle any breakthrough. Meanwhile, Gerome could get them a hot drop on 'Chrom' and his bandits. Bad odds. Very bad odds. But they were the best she could make. If dad was here…

Well, he wasn't. Every second she spent worrying about that was a second not making a plan. Dad was good as an example and an inspiration. If he was an idol, he was going to get her killed. He didn't want that. She didn't want that. And he couldn't be here anyway. More important work.

She'd just give him something to be proud of.

"Okay! I have a plan. Six hours rest, and be ready to move at dusk. Tell Marcus to pull the heavy infantry and the archers back to the nearest village, offer support. They probably won't accept, but if we show we're willing to accept them not accepting, it's worth good will later when we've done something for them to feel good about. Gerome can take four of us to meet with the bandits and maybe… negotiate something?"

Owain's face stayed jelly, but the flavor went more to bitter.

"Impossible challenges bring forth…"

"I know what I'm doing. Just be ready."

Winning smile. Hope that no-one confused her winning smile with a psychotic smile. And shove the boys out of the tent to make thinking better. What did she have? Four soldiers she could trust in the situation. Owain. Overdramatic. Worthless for stealth operations. Likely to draw down a bigger fight when she already had trouble. And… right. A lightning fast dark magic fueled mobile cutlery rack once he got going. He was pretty resistant to pain, and the more blood flowed, the better he got at killing. Something from his father, but useful. Just not what you wanted in the middle of your lines. Or around the people you wanted to talk to. Kjelle. Nearly invincible, and she'd been working on her few flaws. Still, her charge had balance issues. Gerome. Air support, carrying an axe that Morgan was pretty sure would break her arms just to lift. Not perfect for every job, and awful at coordinated maneuvers, but if you wanted to send someone in alone and unaided, he was about as good as it got. Finishing the set, she had… herself. Morgan of Ylisse, probably Chrom's granddaughter if time travel worked like dad thought. Definitely Lucina's daughter. Master tactician in training. And all of that came together to make her a pretty impressive force multiplier… in theory. In practice, well. That's what practice was for!

She had six hours to rest, prepare, and try to convince herself this was even possible. That was five hours more than she needed. That was hopefully five hours more than she needed. That was maybe, fingers crossed, only five hours less than she needed.

That was six hours gone! Terriffic! And the maps confirmed that she only had this shot unless she'd really misread this situation! It just kept getting better! Well. Minerva was waiting. Gerome was waiting. Owain was waiting. Kjelle had been waiting longer than anyone else.

"Morgan. We've…"

"Great! No time to waste, we PROBABLY have Walhart's bounty hunters after us so we might not want to wait around and oh look at this we're going already!"

"WHAT?"

"No time to argue! We're off! Come on, Minerva! Who's the cutest Wyvern? "

Morgan ran through the plan. It was… good? It was very good. All it needed was a way to get down without being filled with arrows. Or breaking both legs in the fall. Or somehow summoning an entire risen attack horde right in the middle of… wait. That might have worked! She really should have thought of that earlier. Well, no time for that. She had landing to think about. Well, a wind tome could…

Suddenly an arrow came for Minerva, and the question was much less abstract. Morgan could hold onto the wyvern, her dad's tactical manual, or the sword mom left her. Not all three. In the heat of the moment, the wyvern seemed the least important to her.

"MORGAN!"

She looked back. Oh. Right! That was why the Wyvern was important! Huh. Well. It was a learning experience. And it made fighting her way to the ground much simpler.

"All according to plan! Just split up on landing, and make sure…"

They probably couldn't hear her. Still. This technically was part of the plan. Or A plan. She just had to form a diversion. If she could tie up the threats, Kjelle and Gerome should have the impact to convince the bandits a whole army was after them. Which she'd set up for as a contingency in the notes she left on Minerva! All she had to do was figure out how to survive a massive fall, deal with about...thirty bandits on her own, take on the best pegasus knight that she'd ever heard of, including Grandma, and find out how a bandit convinced everyone in the area he was Chrom. Simple!

Morgan shook her head. Even thinking this fast, the ground was coming too fast for a complete plan. Focus on the fall. Everything else could wait until she was landed. Sword in sheath, so it wouldn't kill her. And book to a wind scroll. Morgan smiled. It might work! Or it could end with her splattered all over the ground! But the alternative only had the splattered option. She'd always wanted an opportunity to try out the theory. No better chance than now.

A gust of wind filled her cloak and slowed her fall enough that her legs just hurt like they'd been stabbed instead of snapping. She poured a little elixer on them through the pain and stumbled to her feet. Well. That was the first step cleared. This wasn't too bad! She looked around. Blue sky. Green trees. White pegasus and silver lance. Right. That was the bad.

Morgan tried to size up her opponent, like dad would. She was fast. About as fast as Lucina would be, give or take a little bit of extra kick mom put in whenever Morgan looked like she was going to slack off. She was armored about as well as you could be on a pegasus without losing mobility, and the scratches said she'd fought in it enough to at least qualify as experienced. Smile said she either didn't have to kill people often, or liked it. And the blue hair…

Huh! Morgan looked at the strand passing her eye, and back to the pegasus knight. Same shade! Morgan's mind ran through a thousand scenarios and conversation openers. Long lost sister gambit? 'Funny coincidence, but I was JUST looking for someone who knew what went well with blue hair!' Maybe something about how it was a naturally heroic look. I mean, it wasn't like she'd met anyone with that shade who fell below three kinds of a nightmare on the battlefield. Even the amnesic lunatic had people talking about how she had a natural… oh, right. Morgan almost winced. She was thinking of herself in the third person again. Really, not the best way to convince people you were sane and stable.

Then she looked the pegasus rider in the eye as she charged, and everything went out the window. She had the mark of the Exalt. Which made everything a lot more complicated.

"Cynthia is here, villain! In the name of Chrom, I will punish your vileness!"

"I'm Morgan! I'm probably not evil, I swear. I bet you'd like me if you got to know me. I'm naturally lovable and charming!"

Cynthia looked puzzled.

"That's not what you're supposed to say."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're supposed to tell me how you'll never surrender to Chrom, because his heroic visage and love of the common people is an an... anath…"

"Anathema?"

"Anathema to your villainous schemes!"

"But I don't have any villainous schemes."

That was a lie.

"That's a lie! Chrom would never tell me to go after intruders if he wasn't sure they were fiendish meanies!"

"Well, no. Grandpa wouldn't. But since whoever sent you to look at intruders wanted you to attack innocent old me, you have to know it wasn't him."

Cynthia fell out of her saddle and almost missed the reins as she plummeted towards the ground.

"GRANDPA?"

"Yup!"

Morgan's mind was racing. She really didn't know how to prove her claims. The brand on her shoulder might qualify as evidence, but was also easy enough to fake even if she did rip her trusty robes enough to show it.. And the brand on her back was probably trouble if that came up. But the more pressing thing was the name. Well, the name and the eye and the hair. Mom mentioned a sister once. She was on the long list of things dad said not to talk to mom about, up there with 'So, who do you think's going to try to kill grandpa?", something Morgan wasn't sure about, but… there was a name starting with C somewhere around there.

"Lucina said…"

"Lucy?!"

Then Cynthia shook her head.

"Nice try! I know enough to be pretty sure Dad didn't have any kids before Lucy! And you're too old to be anything but a fakey-fake-fake!"

Morgan smiled.

"If I was a fake, how would I know Lucy?"

"By… being a big lying faker! Boy, when Chrom sees you… when Chrom sees you… he'll have some things to say! Fake!"

"Then there'd be no problem with me seeing Chrom since he'd know I was a big fake, right?"

Cynthia scratched her head and fell to the ground.

"OW!"

"Oh. Sorry. You really shouldn't do that when… you figured it out on your own, didn't you. Guess mom got all the brains in the family."

"You don't fool me!"

"I guessed that. Look, I wouldn't fool Chrom either, so…"

Morgan was going to finish with a repeat when they appeared. Bounty hunters, by the looks of them. Heavily armed, highly trained, and the worst kind of complication when a plan was already well out of control. Morgan and Cynthia sighed in concert. Morgan turned to look at them.

"We're kind of busy right now. Could you maybe kill us some other time?"

"What?"

"I've got a list, even! Look, I can put you right under… Walhart? Would that be okay?"

The lead hunter, a man in massive armor with a scarred face, turned to Cynthia.

"What is she even talking about?"

"I don't know. She's insane."

"Or SO SANE that you can't figure out what I'm planning!"

The bounty hunter winced.

"Look. There's money for taking in the local bandits. You're both heavily armed and armored. In the area where we were expecting bandits. I don't care what you're about to say. Just that, dead or alive, you come with us."

Cynthia frowned.

"Bandits? I'm pretty sure dad...I mean Chrom would have done something about them. Are you sure there are bandits around here?"

"Bounty notices don't lie. Look. I'll make it simple. Alive is on the table for another five minutes. Then we just take what we can of dead to make up for you dragging us out here. A couple teenage girls aren't worth our time, but your armor might be able to pass for veteran if we had to."

"Just talk to Chrom! He'll sort everything out."

Morgan felt an obligation to correct the error.

"Uh, it isn't Chrom. She's just… kind of dumb? I mean, she thinks some bandit leader is her dad, which would be totally crazy, right? So, I think that means you can't kill crazy people. It's bad luck."

Winning smile. Never a bad time for the good old fashioned Morgan winning smile. Then the bounty hunter drew a hand crossbow. Maybe there was a bad time for the winning smile.

"Look. I can kill you now, or you can take me to your boss, and maybe, just maybe, he can convince me that you aren't worth the effort."

Cynthia frowned.

"Well, Chrom should be able to show you who the real bandits are, if there are any. But she's not..."

"I don't care. And, before you make your next point, I don't care. And your friend? With her mouth open like she has a comment? I don't care. And if she's not your friend, I don't care. One word that isn't 'Chrom, we brought friends who want to talk', and I decide this whole thing isn't worth the bother."

One of the other hunters turned to him.

"Deke, are you sure about this? I mean, they can't be older than…"

"Older than I was when I killed my first man. Old enough to put a knife in your spine if you turn your back. Old enough to die if they step out of line."

"...Yes sir."

"Damn right. Move it!"

Morgan shook her head. If she had to, well, bad crossbow. Good armor. Quick wind spell to disrupt, and she could stay alive long enough to get distance and signal for the rest of the team. But it was a gamble, and she wouldn't be able to defend Cynthia. Getting an aunt killed would look really bad for her first real command. Dad would be disappointed, mom would be disappointed, and she'd feel awful for weeks. So. She moved. Besides, she was looking for the fake Chrom anyway! It was almost working better than she planned! For a given value of 'working', 'planned', 'better', and possibly 'than'.

It was a short march compared to most of the campaigns so far, but on rough terrain. Cynthia stopped more than once to remember where traps were. Morgan had enough experience to guess the answer was 'pretty much everywhere', and the drive to get through before anyone else. It didn't do much to convince the bounty hunters she wasn't a bandit, but it did keep her from dying to something Cynthia missed. Much better long term decision. When they arrived, Morgan cut off whatever intro Cynthia had planned.

"So, we're here!"

"In the middle of the woods."

"By a well hidden door in a patch of brush in the middle of the woods! Whoever the bandit leader is, he should be here."

"He?"

"Chrom. Or, you know. Not Chrom. The person you're looking for? Geeze! I thought I was forgetful, but you're really...

"Thinking things through. Now, what's the thing people say about Chrom? Blue hair, good swordsman. What would a bandit imitating him need?"

"A huge set of…"

"No. No, I don't think so. I think you're leading us into a trap, because you've been running things and killed anyone too close to the truth. So you open the door, you take point, and you and your little helper don't get to flank us and tear us apart."

"Right."

Morgan took a step back and nodded towards Cynthia.

"You might want to make introductions. Before we all get shot full of arrows. Please?"

Cynthia nodded.

"Chrom will sort this all out, evildoer."

"Which is why we need him. Really, I'm sure this will all make sense once he's here! Just make sure he knows not to have people shoot arrows at us when we come in."

"Why would you think that, unless you were planning treachery already?"

"I've been shot with arrows a lot. It's not fun! I don't think you should try it."

"Fine! But only because I know Chrom can deal with your fiendishness!"

Morgan smiled and stepped back again. No point in arguing. Or in getting too close if it turned into a massive brawl. Cynthia shoved the door after an elaborate knock, and Morgan looked in. Nice little facility. Decent walls, some room for a secret passage, and was that... murder holes! Morgan loved everything about murder holes. The name, the tactical utility, the aesthetics, the way they could be used as more heavy irritation holes if you used mud instead of boiling acid. Whoever ran this place had good taste in boobytraps! Or stole it from someone who had good taste in boobytraps, but poor execution of same. Either way, nice to see. Less nice to get out of if this went the only way it could go, but hey. You took things one day at a time. Morgan followed Cynthia as she passed the bandits inside. Scruffy looking standard models. And not the kind of company a king kept, even a king as bad with ceremony as dear old gramps.

What was the game here? Usually a lie was supposed to be, well, believable. Or almost believable. It should last ten seconds under scrutiny. Something odd was going on. Morgan sidled close to her aunt.

"Cynthia, why would 'Chrom' work with bandits?"

"Whaaat? You're the…"

"Seriously. Those are bandits. Before you ask, I'm right. So, maybe you can tell me why he'd want them around instead of anyone else. Because grandpa could get a lot better. Sully would do better with a random bunch of villagers and a couple of hours."

Cynthia looked from the bandits to Morgan and glared.

"Like you would know…"

"You noticed you're way, way better than anyone else here, right?"

"Because…"

"Not even like Lucy is better than everyone else. That would make sense! But you're the only one who carries a weapon like you need to fight for your life. They're totally shakedown artists. Also, bullies. Which doesn't really match up well with the idea that he's Chrom."

"He is Chrom! Meanie!"

"Wow. I'm really not used to this."

"What?"

"Family arguments where I'm the voice of reason. I'm used to being able to be the fun, crazy one who doesn't have to think about anything."

Cynthia stuck out her tongue. Morgan considered how much effort it would take to come up with a counterargument and decided against it. Right now, the best thing was finding out what was going on from someone more informed. Then Cynthia turned and looked ahead.

"Father!"

She dashed towards a man in a cape, better armed than the other bandits. Morgan couldn't see much resemblance to the Exalt

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that."

"Err… sorry Captain Chrom. I found a bandit. Also, some bounty hunters who didn't believe I was working for you."

"Oh."

"I let them in to talk to you!"

"You lead them here?"

Cynthia smiled almost as wide as Morgan's standard.

"Yessir, fa...Chrom! I knew you could deal with the situation!"

Morgan could barely make out the man's words.

"Competition, the last thing I…"

Then he coughed.

"Of course. I could always use more… assistance in my protection of the realm."

"That's just what I thought! And maybe they can show the no-good imposter who's the real Chrom!"

"Imposter?"

"She claims to be working for Chrom! And you would tell me if you'd seen her, because I know my…captain would never do anything deceptive."

"Of course not. Who is it?"

Cynthia pointed at Morgan. Morgan pointed right back. Cynthia looked confused. As usual. Morgan took the opportunity to counter. Always have the last option the enemy would expect primed and ready.

"Isn't it suspicious that she claimed to be your daughter from the future? I mean, it's not like anyone would believe that story. She had to know you wouldn't, and you'd think she was too dumb to be a threat! It's a classic misdirection play, and now that you're on the cusp of discovering her, she's trying to find a patsy!"

'Chrom' stared at Morgan.

"That's your bandit?"

"Yeah! She's suspicious!"

"Says the spy!"

Morgan kept down a smile. 'Chrom' didn't trust Cynthia already. She could see it in his eyes, doubt about his luck and doubt that anyone could be that stupid. It wouldn't be enough to start a full schism, but with luck, it could get Cynthia imprisoned instead of dead, and then when they came back to the main camp, dad and mom could sort the whole thing out. Well, it was a starting plan, anyway.

One of the mercenaries coughed.

"As fascinating as watching these idiots argue is, we're here for a bounty. As in a bounty on you. Dead or alive, they're not too picky. So, you coming with us?"

Chrom turned to the bounty hunters, much less worried than a man should be with a crossbow aimed at his throat. Morgan hadn't smiled that much, and she was, well, Morgan. The gods' gift to mayhem and sunny optimism!

"You must have made a mistake somewhere."

"No. Now, I'm giving you until the count of three. Two."

"I'm Chrom. The ruler of Ylisse. I'm sure I could reward you much better than whoever you're working for now."

Morgan smelled something sweet in the air. Her arms were lead, her legs were worse, and just collapsing was ruled out for being too much effort. Even bothering to think 'this doesn't feel right' was draining. She pushed into her memories. Curses, curses, curses. Great uncle Henry had said something about them, right?

"Nya ha ha! I can still taste the blood!"

No.

"Remember, a quick death is for when you're feeling nice!"

No.

"When you get hit with a curse, you just push right through it! Or you die. Your dad would kill you if you died, nya ha ha!"

Close enough. So, all she had was endurance, then. That and whatever willpower she had left. No problem. She'd handled three all night study sessions last month. Only conked out fifteen times! That kind of record, she knew she could be relied on!

Morgan held on. Whatever was poking at her brain, whatever this bandit wanted, she wasn't having it. She was Morgan, and that meant… that meant… it meant something! And she stood by it.

The bandit looked her in the eye, and his face seemed to fade into Chrom's and back.

"After all, why would I lie to you?"

Morgan tried to think of a clever retort. But all the energy she had was stuck keeping her brain more or less her own.

"You would."

"No. I'm a king. I can offer you so much more with the truth."

"Which makes it weird that you're lying anyway."

Morgan looked around the room.

"Nobody's buying this, right? Because I'm pretty sure I'm a better liar than he is."

Deke looked at her. Morgan revised her odds down.

"Why would I doubt Chrom? He seems like an honest man. Bare minimum, he can afford to pay us better than the alternatives. Hell, maybe more than Walhart could, and he's less reliable to work with."

"Um, you're supposed to be putting sarcasm quotes around 'Chrom'. Because he isn't Chrom. Trust me. I know Chrom."

"Which makes me wonder why you can't see him right in front of you."

Great. Perfect. Morgan moved her odds from 'bad' to 'hahahahaha.'

'Chrom' shook his head and muttered.

"At least she might draw a ransom."

He sighed.

"Cynthia, escort her to the cells."

"But Fath...Captain Chrom! We can't trust her to the…"

"Did I say you could argue with me?"

"No."

A fragment of old memory slid through Morgan's mind. Morgan whispered in Cynthia's general direction

"He didn't call you his pega-pony princess either."

Cynthia's eyes flared.

"He didn't!"

'Chrom' shook his head.

"What did I say?"

"Right away. _Chrom_."

Cynthia jabbed a spear to Morgan's back and marched towards the cells. Morgan smirked.

"You know, he doesn't act much like your dad. I mean, MY dad is always saying nice things. Because he's a good dad."

"Nuh-uh! He's a great… Lucy said he was a great dad."

"And Chrom is. Why would Lucy lie to you?"

"She wouldn't!"

"So, he isn't a great dad. So he isn't Chrom. After all, you'd be his pega pony princess! Why wouldn't he brag about that?"

"He wouldn't!"

"Exactly. So maybe we can try to get out of here. And to your actual dad, who might..."

Morgan winced. Okay, Chrom really deserved all the world's greatest grandpa praise that he'd gotten from her, and he'd be thrilled to have another daughter around, or at least prefer it to when he found out he was a grandfather while still in his twenties. But she was going to lie a lot pretty soon, and that was going to be trouble. Well, trouble then beat dead now.

"Who will DEFINITELY call you his Pega-pony princess. Also, he's been spending a lot of time asking Lucy about how to make an entrance, and she has no. idea."

"Of course not! For someone so heroic, she doesn't know much about heroes."

"Yes. She doesn't. So, we probably should…"

Right. She'd been planning to burn the place down. Tome and sword slipped into their hiding spots, but somehow it seemed like bad idea to go with total war and sneaky killing when working with someone so enthralled with heroics. Especially someone you just convinced you were the good guy. The goal for the moment was to get out alive. After that, she could worry about the original goal. Dad said things got out of hand from time to time. What mattered was not getting immediate family murdered by bandits impersonating your grandfather. Or something. Honestly, she was operating without a map at this point.

"leave. How many entrances do you know for this place?"

"One!"

"One."

"Heroes don't have to worry about a secret entrance to their base. That's for baddies."

"Right. But we're running from the bad guys now. It would be really good if you found a secret entrance."

"Oh. I thought you'd need a secret exit."

"That's basically the same thing."

"But heroes always have a secret exit. It's by the stables!"

Morgan considered debating semantics. Not the best idea when pressed for time.

"Oh, right. Ha. Ha. So, we should go there. Before the crazy mind controlling not-Chrom comes and tries to kill us. Because we're making a lot of enemies."

"Weird. We're so likable!"

Morgan smiled.

"You know, that's exactly what I was thinking! See, I told you we were family."

The path through the base was smooth enough, considering the circumstances. Morgan would have prefered not to spend every second in fear of guards and alerts, but you made do with what you had.

Still. It was smooth.

Until it wasn't. The leader of the bandits met them in a back hall without warning. Morgan wished she'd laid some traps on the way there. Nothing good, maybe, but having warning was better than not. All she had now was the old charm and a winning smile. The charm now, the smile for an emergency.

"Cynthia, I told you to take the prisoner to her cell."

Morgan smiled.

"I just got lost! Cynthia's certainly scatterbrained ha ha… ha?"

Cynthia glared.

"I know you're not Chrom!"

"What?"

"My REAL dad would never act so sneaky."

"Uh, Cynthia?"

"You were the one who told me!"

"And now might not be the best time."

"But he's the villain! Heroes confront villains. Right? That's what things are supposed to be like in the past. And then he'll go…"

The bandit leader shook his head.

"Kill them."

"Yeah! And then…"

Morgan yanked Cynthia to the floor as an arrow flew overhead.

"Then we run or we die. Fun!"

Morgan rolled to her feet, tactics manual in hand, and flipped to the emergency spells. A few words filled the hall with wind. A few more followed with fire. And then she shut up, because the breath was better spent running and dragging Cynthia with her. Morgan would call it plan C, but that would imply she still had letters left. Right now she was well into 'incoherent grunt" territory. Owain, Kjelle, and Gerome should arrive soon, and that might be enough. For now, she had to survive and adapt.

"Cynthia?"

"He lied to me!"

"Yeah. He lied to a lot of people. Which is why we're running."

"We need to show him what…"

"Later. Once Owain and everyone's here."

"Owain!"

"And Gerome. And Kjelle. And… pretty much no other backup, so we should probably be smart instead of daring. Unless daring is smart."

"The justice cabal, together again! Evildoers beware..."

"Fine. Just keep running!"

Morgan rolled under a blast of wind and worked through a dozen more scenarios. The best case had her out clean, no-one injured, and a commendation from the townsfolk. It also involved so many coincidences and acts of god that she had to invent exciting new numbers to keep track of them all! The next best option was to take out the leader and run in the confusion, with Gerome and Kjelle boxing in anyone wanting to fight at the exits leaving Cynthia and Owain free to secure the pegasus. It was high risk, of course. Riskier than dad would go with. Riskier than anyone sensible would go with.

Morgan heard movement by the entrance. Wings. Wyvern, big, three riders… Well, if the plan had a shot, it was now.

"Cynthia, tell Owain where the pegasus is, don't go into details about why you're here, I'll meet up with you!"

"What?"

Flames took out a wall and Morgan was running before Cynthia could ask any questions. Quick math gave her just enough charges to burn, freeze, and jolt her way around the main enemy group to cut off not-Grandpa with a smaller group of soldiers. The catch was, that also meant she couldn't pull off any magic beyond a pretty girl's smile when she had to take him on with, judging from earlier, a brainwashed bodyguard of mercenaries and cutthroats who'd kill her as soon as look at her. (The magic of a pretty girl's smile had been very disappointing in practice so far.) Then, it all came down to the plan.

Even if she lived, this was ending in a lecture from her father. About how you shouldn't be a hero on the battlefield, about how a plan should have failsafes, how lives were irreplaceable. And she'd listen, because he'd be right. But right now, the irreplaceable lives were the people trusted to her. People who trusted her. She'd do them proud, or die in the attempt.

Older lectures from dear old dad rumbled through her mind. Not in warning for the next one. In planning how to survive this.

"Do you know what the most important quality is for a tactician, Morgan?"

She shook her head. Even if she did, she wanted to hear him say it.

"Empathy. It's the hardest part of the job, too. If you know how your troops feel, how they think, you know how to motivate them, drive them to their best, and how to best use those talents. But it also rips your heart out when they die."

"Well, at least you can…"

"Empathy for the enemy is even more important. And even harder. You know their hopes, their dreams, the fact that most of them don't deserve to die, and even if they did you wouldn't have the right. And then you use that to end their lives. If you understand someone, you know how to kill them. It's also much harder to want to."

She'd been small then. Morgan remembered that. She wanted to cry. But a master tactician couldn't cry in front of an officer.

"I think I like the board better. The little horsey ones don't feel bad when they die. And they come back."

"So do I. But sometimes, we have to do things we don't like."

Morgan looked into the last room. If her calculations were right, she was at the target. If they weren't, she was surrounded and dead within the next ten minutes. A look into the room would collapse the uncertainty. Jackpot. 'Chrom' and half a dozen guards. He was muttering something about his luck and trusting that idiot. Nothing mission relevant. Well, it reinforced what she'd thought already. Another part of the plan moved to a slightly lower risk category from the initial 'not a chance'.

She stepped into the center, and gulped. If this didn't work, it would be very, very short.

"Chrom!"

What had she known about him? That he was a bandit. That, instead of any other plan, he took the name of a king to plant his banner. Not just any king, though. Not even one who was an established power, or someone who could safely claim tribute in Walhart's name. No. He picked grandpa. Why?

Morgan had a guess. A simple one. It was in the blood. Chrom's line was unbroken back to the days of the hero king, if mom could be believed. Chosen by the gods. Born better, which wasn't true at all but popular belief was a devil of a thing. (Kjelle's blood was as common as dirt, and she was _terrifying_.) Chrom was nobility head to toe, no matter how he denied it or tried to shrug it off.

And this bandit wasn't. He needed to be better than he was. He needed to think he was important. He was a fragile, frightened man who happened into some power, and knew that he didn't deserve it. So. This might work.

"What?"

He'd turned, but he hadn't gotten to 'kill her'. So. On track.

"The Chrom I know was a peerless fighter. And honorable."

"Then…"

"Prove you're him."

Morgan drew her sword.

"Honorable combat. One on one. Defeat me, and I submit."

She tried to channel Kjelle in the tone. If you were challenging someone to a fight to the death, they needed to believe you were the kind of person who wanted it. Simple blood and honor stuff. No complicated games, no risks other than not being good enough. No escape.

"Why should I surrender the advantage?"

"Because you're a king and an honorable man, not a dog."

She timed the words carefully. Do it right. Like you believe it. And like there's enough doubt that you'll win that he'll take it.

The man gestured to the guards to step back. He drew a sword. And he smiled. Morgan aimed her blade at the man. Simple rules. It wasn't tactics now. It wasn't psychology. It was killing and dying. Mom's gift more than dad's, and not her favorite way to solve a problem. But she was out of options.

Blades clashed. Morgan winced. The man wasn't bad. Well, he was BAD, banditry and murder and using dark magic to mind control people into being your puppets certainly wasn't good, but he had some talent with the whole stabbing thing. More than she'd been hoping for, even if it fit with her expectations. If he'd been up against most of the army, or even some of the Shepherds, they'd be dead already.

Morgan was lucky she was trained better. Her grandfather was a king. Her mother was the best swordfighter alive. And her father was just the best. Every trick of the wrist, every edge you could get in these quarters was hers. And she saw what she needed.

He left an opening with his left side parries. He didn't notice. Most people wouldn't, not at that speed. A quick poke to the left exposed it again. He parried. And Morgan's eyes flashed.

"This ends here."

Cherry blossoms filled the air. Morgan drove her sword into the man's heart. Magic flowed along the blade and burned his body to a crisp.

Morgan smiled. She'd burned a man to death, yes. She'd killed a lot of people. Usually after learning how they thought, and reasons they might not deserve to die. She was used to it. The important thing was she won. If she could sell it.

"So. Um… guess he wasn't Chrom, huh?"

The guards were backed against the wall. Morgan shrugged. That was as good as anything. One of them managed to squeak out a few words.

"Gods. Gods!"

"Yeah. That was a last minute plan. I had something better, but it more or less fell apart as it went. Uh, at least you aren't dead? I mean, as long as you surrender."

Swords clattered to the ground. Morgan smiled again.

"Thank you for your cooperation. Tell everyone you see on the way out the whole story, and then we'll all be fine."

Probably. Dad had told uncle Henry to stop experimenting on POWs, right? Now that had been a disturbing afternoon. One of the mercenaries from before, Deke(?), nodded.

"Whatever you say. Hell, with a display like that, you could say I was Chrom, and I'd nod along. Didn't sign up for this line of work just to die."

"Don't worry. You're not Chrom. Grandpa is much younger than you. Also, fewer scars. Maybe you should try to get stabbed less."

"Was more worried about the dying. And, grandpa?"

Deke paused.

"Wait. I said I wouldn't ask the crazy girl who just turned a guy to ash too many questions. Hands up march people. Nobody else needs to die, and I doubt many of us want to."

Morgan's smile grew.

"See? That's the kind of attitude I wanted earlier."

They were halfway out before they saw anyone else, and he almost missed them at a dead run.

"Get Chrom! We're under attack!"

Deke turned to Morgan. She nodded. Letting someone else talk preserved the mystique.

"Can't, on account of he's dead, on account of this girl being a hell of a lot scarier than we figured on. Sword down, hands up. No point in dying now."

"Well, we're dying soon! I don't care how good she is. Even if she killed Chrom, she's not talking the dastards outside down!"

Morgan paused.

"Dastards?"

"Yeah! Not only did Chrom's new favorite turn around and start stabbing us in the back, but we have a white haired swordsman yammering about vengeance, a WYVERN with an axe swinging something on its back, and a lady knight who barely qualifies for the first thanks to being a PSYCHOTIC NIGHTMARE on the second!"

"Oh. Good. They're with me."

The man blinked, then dropped his sword and walked into line without a word.

Well. This would be a story for dad, wouldn't it? Morgan had to admit, he'd been right. Family bonding was good, but sometimes you had to find things out on your own.

**(Author's note: Okay, I was originally planning to go with another set of shorter showpieces for the, but some of those were coming together slower, and this seemed like it could fill . Going to admit it. Morgan(F)'s probably my favorite. It isn't because she's a psychotic monster who torments her friends... at least, not entirely. It's that she's simultaneously brilliant and airheaded. It's nearly impossible to tell at any given moment if she's just goofing off or running an elaborate scheme. Or both.**

**As for Ruger having mind control? Well, Cynthia can be pretty stupid, sure. But even for her, that was a standout. Figure a guy with a solid magic stat and that kind of luck talking people around would use any edge he could get. As for Morgan shrugging it off, well, Henry mentions that curses roll against willpower. And Morgan IS the most shamelessly self-motivated.**

**Standard hope you liked it, equally standard thanks for reading, and see you next time, assuming point one holds.)**


	3. Modern times

**Lucina**: **Unprepared parent****  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"Again. But slower."<p>

Morgan's shoulders slumped back.

"Mom, I got this. It's just a sword. I know how to use a sword. You probably taught me growing up."

Lucina shook her head.

"Falchion isn't just a sword, Morgan. It's our heritage. A gift from Naga herself to the hero Anri. You have to treat it like an extension of your body. As a part of your soul."

Morgan smiled.

"Got it. Be extra careful with Pointy Demonspanker."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Owain told me all about it when I asked."

"Of course he did. I should have never let you talk to him."

Lucina picked a thick branch off the ground.

"Well, you aren't taking this seriously."

"Sorry. I'll try to do better."

"No. It's my fault. I'm asking my brilliant but distractible daughter to go through slowed sword practice when she's spent months in real combat. We should change things."

"If you say so! So, what are we.."

Lucina's branch slammed into Morgan's arm.

"We're starting now. Don't worry about holding back.

"Ok. So how's…"

Lucina tapped Morgan on the head again.

"You have Falchion. I shouldn't be getting through your defenses so easily."

"I thought you wanted me to stop having head trauma. Ow!"

"Morgan, I'm sorry."

Falchion bounced off Lucina's armor.

"Ha! Got you."

"You did."

"And… isn't Falchion supposed to be pointy?"

"Only when used by a member of the Ylissean royal family. And even then, only if it finds you worthy. Which, apparently, it doesn't yet."

Morgan looked hurt.

"Which doesn't mean anything! Owain has never been able to use Falchion. Neither has Cynthia. If anyone thinks the less of you for failing to use a piece of metal, they'll have to answer to me. Even if it's Naga herself!"

"You mean that, mom?"

"Of course, dear. You're my daughter, and might be the most important person in my world. But all this talking won't finish our practice. Come on. I want to see what you can do."

The sword and staff played off each other as mother and daughter spoke. Lucina's branch compensated for its weaker constitution with skill born of harsh experience.

"We don't get to talk as often as I would like, Morgan. The war may be less harsh than it was in my time, but it still keeps us apart. I hardly have enough time with your father."

"He says the same thing. I tried to help with honeymoon plans, but…"

"I'd rather if you didn't."

Lucina turned red. Morgan poked her with Falchion.

"My point!"

"I suppose it is. Heh. You were just distracting me, weren't you?"

"Well…"

Lucina glared.

"Yes. You and dad can totally have that time to yourselves!"

"Good."

Lucina tapped Morgan on the head.

"And now we're even. Don't get distracted. If we let the risen keep us off our game like this, we'd never..."

Lucina parried a blow.

"be able to do our jobs. Good eye. But not quite fast enough."

"Thanks. You'd know."

"I'm nothing special, Morgan. We're all equals in this army. I just hope I can live up to my father and all the world needs from me."

Swing, jump, flip. Morgan was showing off. But it ran in the family.

"Aw, come on, mom."

"What did I say?"

"You're the best soldier in this whole camp! No-one had anything bad to say about you! You're the only person Gerome had unreserved compliments for! And you know he has really high standards."

"I know, but he must have someone else…"

"Nope! And I asked him a lot."

Swing. Parry. Kick to throw Morgan off guard, but not so hard as to stagger her.

"Well. I'm honored, but I can't say that I approve of placing…"

Block.

"me that far above anyone else."

"Mom, just let me be proud of you for once! Dad lets me praise him sometimes. Look, even my boyfriend says you're great."

"You're dating?"

"Um, no. Hahaha. When did I say that?"

"Just now. Morgan, don't lie to me."

"Well, we're just starting. It's not too serious yet."

"Who is it?"

"Gerome."

Lucina blocked Falchion a second before it hit her arm.

"GEROME?!"

"Yeah. I kind of wanted to keep this quiet."

"I can see why. Dating one of my closest friends?"

"Well, he's _really_ good looking."

Lucina smiled.

"I was about to say that now I know how my father feels. Heh. It must run in the family."

"Right. Something else I got from you! This is great bonding. See, I already know what I got from dad. I remember that."

"Let's focus on the good."

"Strategy lessons, good taste in meat, I'm a quick study…"

"Of course."

"And, um, the other thing."

Morgan shifted her left hand on Falchion to show the Mark of Grima.

"The less good thing."

"I know. You know, there's something I haven't told you."

Block. Counter.

"About dad? I think I can guess."

Lucina staggered, but still managed to parry Morgan's blow.

"I'm sorry, Morgan. I couldn't think of another way. You have to know that it hurt me as much as anyone."

"I know."

"Even then, I couldn't go through with it. Not when he was… himself. You come from a better world, Morgan. You don't need to know any of this. It will all turn out alright."

"If you say so. Ha! You're being the optimistic one. That never happens."

"I'll admit I sometimes look…"

Duck, counter.

"On the negative side of things. Which is why you and your father are such a joy to be around."

"Ha! Um, but there's another thing. Do you remember when we went to that one future?"

"You were amazing, Morgan. Don't worry. Losing your nerve is normal in the face of a world so bleak. Holding yourself together until we got back home was better than I did when… I had to bear that kind of responsibility."

"That's not it. You remember the Risen general? On the Wyvern?"

"Yes? I know that the… us of the time couldn't have dealt with her. I can't imagine why a human would side with Grima."

Lucina grimaced as she sidestepped a charge.

"Well, or why Grima would let anyone live. The Grima I knew never had much mercy. Not like your father."

"Or me?"

"Of course. You're a wonderful daughter. Even if you torment Yarne more than you should."

Lucina brace for "But he's so fluffy and easy to torture!"

It didn't come. Neither did another blow.

"Morgan?"

"I think that general was me. I mean, the me there. You know what I mean."

Lucina stopped to match Morgan.

"What?"

"I can see me doing it, too. I mean, I know I love you! You're my mom, and you're really important. But I've always loved dad best, and if he… I don't want to do it. But I know I would."

"Oh, Morgan."

"I know! You're so nice and smart and I know dad would want me to be happy with you if… but I can't!"

Lucina sat down. Morgan curled up.

Lucina cleared her throat.

"He wanted me to talk to you about that. If it's not a good time, we can wait."

"Tell me."

"You know that we're all doing all we can to change the future. But, if my father and I die, you'll be the heir to the throne, and the only hope for the world. I know it's asking more than you can bare, but, if all else fails…"

"I can't."

"I know. And we'll all do what we can so you can forget all of this. But I know you could do it, Morgan. If you needed."

"I can't."

"I gave you Falchion for a reason. I know…"

"I can't, mom. Take it back!"

Morgan jabbed the sword away. Lucina winced.

"Aaagh!"

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, mom, are you alright? I have some bear grease right here."

Lucina smiled.

"I'm fine, Morgan. It's just a… scratch." She pulled her hand from her face. She'd had much worse. The blood on her hand could hardly compare to... blood! "It's a scratch!"

"Yay! A scratch! That's great, mom! That's the best!" Morgan lifted her free hand to the sky. After a second, it fell back to Earth with a thump. "Er… why is it so great?"

"You forgot already."

"Yup! Part of my charm."

"Falchion, in the hands of anyone but her rightful wielder, is dull. It couldn't cut a blade of grass. It cut my cheek."

Morgan nodded.

"Oh. Right! So that means I'm..."

"Going to turn out just fine. "

"Thanks, mom."

Morgan smiled. Lucina stood up and helped Morgan to her feet.

"A breather, and we can return to practicing."

"Really?"

"What kind of mother would I be if I gave up over something as minor as a grazed cheek? Come on, Morgan. We have a lot of lost memories to make up for."

"And I can get pointers from dad about anything you miss."

"Please don't. I love the man as much as anyone in the world, but his entire left side is exposed when he tries for a thrust. You don't have to repeat his faults."

* * *

><p><strong>Brady: Amateur theologian<strong>

* * *

><p>Libra kneeled and tried to prepare his soul. It was madness. He was a man, a broken little thing of flesh, petitioning a god. Worse, he was a horrible excuse for a human. Blood was on his hands, blood on his soul. His parents called him a monster, and they were probably right. And here he was, petitioning the goddess of light for clemency. If he was a priest of Grima or some other foul thing, his nature would be expected. But a man of blood asking a creature of grace and mercy for anything felt like madness. Madness that kept him afloat and sane.<p>

"Hey, Libra!"

Libra snapped to the door of the tent. It was a distraction, but at the moment, any distraction was welcome. Brady. Maribelle's son.

"Hello."

"So, you're the top priest around here. The spiritual head honcho?"

"Err…"

Libra paused. He hadn't ever taken the time to consider it, but he was the highest ranked member of the Ylissean clergy on the expedition. And he did tend to the spiritual needs of the army. Which wasn't easy, considering the assumed that clerics had "prayer magic" to fight ghosts, Gaius thought the gods worked on the same rules as corner merchants, Anna skipped that stage to worship money directly, and Henry… well, he had a good heart. Somewhere.

Meanwhile, Brady was a bit uncouth, but he was an ordained follower of Naga in his time. It would be good to have a theological discussion with some depth. Gods knew that Libra was in no place to judge.

"I suppose so. Of course, when we find the Voice, I will accept her judgement like any other."

"Sure, but she ain't exactly in the regular."

"No. We would be blessed to have her counsel above any Ylissean priest in centuries."

"That ain't what I meant! I need to know how a priest is supposed to work for his boss!"

Libra blinked.

"What?"

"The last guys I bunked with were Mila worshippers. I mean, they were alright, but they don't know what we know, right?"

"They follow a different divinity, but both have similar commandments. Mila and Naga alike demand that we aid the less fortunate, abandon sin, and forgive our enemies. The differences are important, of course, but we can't say that they're wrong."

Brady waved his hand in the air.

"Sure. Fine. But I wanna get down to the main bit. No malarky!"

"Of course."

Libra paused to think over what the younger man would consider important. He came from a world nearly destroyed by Grima, Naga's nemesis. The theological implications of that would be important, of course. Consideration why Mila hadn't intervened, perhaps a discussion of the Almian doctrine and the degree it could be taken as objective truth versus its value as a metaphor for the human condition and the desire of the gods for humanity to take its place outside their shadow. There were so many questions! It was too long since he was able to discuss them. Too long spent on the most basic doctrines. Now he could finally have some depth!

But it wouldn't be right to assume. He may simply wish to consider how to better serve his fellow man. He might need reassurance in the face of doubt, Naga knew there would be reason enough in the wake of Grima's rampage and the attacks on the sacred temple of the Earth Mother. The important thing was helping his fellow follower of the goddess.

"How do you get into clocking a guy?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You're a war priest, right? That means Naga goes into helping you cleave a Risen's skull off! I'm not doing much good on the frontlines now, but I figure if you tell me how to ask the lady upstairs…"

Naga preserve them all.

"Naga did not curse me to dwell in blood."

"Nah, of course not. But she had to give you some tips, right? I mean, you're one of those war monks. Gotta be something in it."

"I would never call it a divine gift."

Libra sighed. Well, he'd wanted something to think on. And Naga, it seemed, had a sense of humor. He hadn't wanted to think about any of this. He didn't want to consider the dark parts of his mind, the impulses that a good man would never even encounter. But here he was. He paused.

"Aw, come off it!"

Brady wouldn't give him the time to consider, then. He would have to go with the first story he had, and pray for mercy as he could find it.

"I fear that there was a darker purpose to my order. That we took our dark impulses not from Naga, but from below. In her mercy, she directed it to do less harm, and perhaps spare our souls, but we still stained our hands and our souls every time we took to battle. The loss of the others was tragic, but their sins came to an end, and we can hope Naga gave them mercy. Mine will continue for longer."

"Geeze. You aren't the guy to go to for a pep talk, are you?"

"I'm sorry."

"Just hit me with the heavy stuff right off. Guess that's what it means to be a priest, right? Got a lot to learn."

Brady left the tent, shaking his head all the while. Libra sighed. He meant to soothe the soul and help them both. Instead he left the poor man more confused than ever. Gods have mercy on him, a sinner.

It was three weeks before he saw Brady again. At least, before he saw him long enough to talk beyond yelled instructions. Even then, most of them passed through Robin first, and the tactician blunted any personal touch in favor of maximum efficiency. (She might be intelligent, compassionate, and friendly off the field, but it was rare to see anything in battle but the lady of war.) Three weeks of battles, death, and blood. Libra did his best to heal and protect, and Naga spared more of them than he had any right to expect, but they still lost soldiers. And worse, he still had to kill. He envied Brady. Envied his innocence. He was still a healer. And Libra was a killer.

They met in the medical tent. Brady was coughing.

"Hey *cough* Libra. Been a while."

"Brady. I didn't see you wounded in the last…"

"Nah. Heh. I'm trying to help out here. Just figures that I'd wind up coughing all over. Naga passed me up when handing out the stamina. Nasty one out there, though. Shepherds made it through alright."

"Thanks to your efforts."

"Haw! A wimp like me? Don't make me laugh. Saw you handle your part, though."

Libra didn't say anything.

"Right. What we talked about. Sorry about that."

"It's not your problem to worry about."

"Uh, maybe you want to jaw about more of the god talk instead? I mean, you seemed to like that."

"I do… appreciate the chance to contemplate Naga's will."

"Sure. Not my favorite bit, but hey. Naga's always done right by me."

"If you aren't interested in…"

"It was something ma woulda approved of, and I couldn't do much else good. So I wave a staff and get the people who can do some actual good back on their feet."

"What would you like to do? I'm sure Naga can find a way to use your gifts…"

"That's a laugh. What I do ain't much good in a war. And I ain't much good at anything else. Leaves us right here. So, god talk? I mean, as I said, I ain't much for it, but you can fill in for the both of us. Might learn something."

Libra paused. It was usually rude to refuse a gift. And Brady had a lot on his mind. The best thing he could do would be to listen. But he couldn't listen unless his fellow priest wanted to talk. Which meant he should keep things going.

"There is something I've been thinking about."

"Go on, then. Not like I have much else to do."

"Soon, if all goes well, we intend to meet the Voice. The daughter of Naga herself. I've spent my life contemplating the divine, living by faith. And soon we will face absolute fact."

"So?"

"So, Naga is above us, but almost with us at the same time. Divine paradox. I'm not sure I will face up to it well."

"Aw, Nah talked to her all the time. Don't see what changes that someone else knows her too."

Libra's jaw dropped.

"One of your friends spoke with Naga?"

"Pretty much nightly. She's got more time for smalltalk than I'da figured."

"That's incredible."

"Never much thought about it. When a god's going around trying to kill you and everybody you know, then making the dead rush after, then you don't get surprised when another one has something to say."

"I'd… well, it makes faith a different question."

Libra tried to smile.

Brady shrugged.

"Didn't much try to think about all this until we were in the middle of it. Priests gotta know how their god's thinkin'. Thought that someone was passing on orders. Like the boss and the mooks, standard setup."

"So, you don't understand how to be a priest at all."

"You wave your staff and people don't die. It ain't like the people who're actually doing something."

"Is that how you see it?"

"It's how it is, pops! Naga talk is for people who talk to her. I mean, if you want me to, I'll do it! But I ain't had to do it before. Don't think I'd be much good at it."

Libra sighed.

"What are you good at?"

"Well, nothing important."

"Naga gave you a gift. It's not my place to judge how it will fall into her plans."

Brady shrugged.

"Sure."

"If you're accepting my authority as a priest, then listen to me here. Your talents are important."

Brady coughed.

"I play violin."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Real laugh. Haw Haw. Ma made me spend hours getting good at it. Kinda liked it. But people don't go around listening to violin much when the dead are clawing at the doors. So I picked up something more useful. Only…"

"I would love to hear it."

"Sure. Trying for that wise mentor jaw. You got your hobbies too, but they don't stop you from doing something useful."

"Useful."

"You don't like it much, but smashing a slackjaw's skull is about as useful as it gets. Meanwhile, I just do a fancier job of humming."

"Don't sell yourself short!"

Libra's statement was almost drowned out by a scream. Looking down, he'd applied a little more force in securing a poultice than he intended. He stepped back. That was not what he intended. Later, he would make his peace with Naga on the matter. For the moment, he could adjust the bandaging, mutter an apology, and hope that the poor soldier would forgive him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to raise my voice. But you're disparaging a gift and elevating a curse. You ask what you can do, and then when the answer is in front of you, you ignore it. I can't speak for Naga, but I'm sure she'd want you to use your talent instead of envying others. For now, you can be a healer. Once this war is over, play."

"That simple?"

Libra smiled.

"Yes."

Brady rolled the suggestion for a few seconds.

"I'll remember that. Maybe I could play something for you."

"I'd like that."

"Whatever you say, pops. Know something?"

"What?"

"Ain't talked to her that much in person, but I'm pretty sure Naga'd say you were alright."

* * *

><p><strong>Noire: Unfortunate daughter<strong>

* * *

><p>"Noire, you already have a mother."<p>

Robin was smiling. Noire tried to smile back. She was making a joke. Probably. Robin would never send her away. She hadn't yet, at any rate.

"It's just…"

"It's just that you prefer to spend time with me. You know, Tharja does love you. She just has an… odd way of showing it. Gods know she has an odd way of showing how she feels about me."

Robin shook her head.

"I'm flattered, really. If I was interested in… that kind of thing, she'd be at the top of my list. But I don't think it would be good for either of us. I'm glad she found someone else. And not just because it means I can sleep a little better."

Noire considered mentioning that Tharja slept with a lock of Robin's hair until the day she died. On the balance, it probably wasn't the best idea.

"She's… trying to be a good mother."

"I know. And I'm assuming I'd have even more trouble if I ever settle down. I might be mother to this whole army sometimes, but I've seen how much trouble Sully has. I'm not volunteering for that. I guess you'll have to do."

"Thank you."

"You're more than welcome. Honestly, I was worried you'd all treat me like Lucina did. This is much nicer."

"Well, you work so hard for all of us..."

Neither woman said anything for a few moments. Robin broke the silence.

"Do you mind if I ask a question?"

"Of..of course not?"

She was going to ask Noire why she was so scared of Tharja, or to talk to Lucina about her, or why she sometimes got all...odd. It was going to be horrible and break everything. Noire knew it. It was too good to last. She didn't get to have nice things. But if she didn't let Robin ask the question, then she'd go away. It was a no-win scenario.

"Thank you. I just wondered why you sometimes acted… funny."

"Oh."

That was just the question Noire was afraid of. Right there with "Did you really think I liked having you around?"

"If you don't want to say anything, you don't need to. You're a kind and helpful young woman, and it's a privilege to be your friend. I just make tactics for the whole army, and that means I need to know how to use every advantage."

"Advantage?"

"Of course. You scare the enemy even more than you scare our side. Also you can keep Inigo in check, which is something I appreciate more than words can say. But if I knew how it worked, I think you could help more. If you wanted to, I mean."

"Well…"

Noire considered her story. She could just tell the truth. Telling the truth would make Robin talk to her mother. And that wouldn't be good for anyone. Or she could lie. If she could think of a good lie.

Or she could tell part of the truth, and hope that Robin wouldn't look too hard for the other parts. Robin was the nice mother for the army, after all. It wouldn't be too bad.

"I had a talisman."

The words shot out like pegasus knights in front of a ballista, eager to die and be forgotten. But Robin wasn't going to leave them alone.

"And I suppose it was powerful enough to leave aftereffects. Most dark magic fades fairly quickly when the source is removed, but a few mages have the skill and the lack of scruples to make something that lasts once the artifact is removed. It's a key part of most plans to summon dark gods. It's a shame it was destroyed."

"It wasn't… destroyed."

"Then it's a shame that you left it behind in your time. I'm not blaming you! I just would like a chance to examine it. I'm not much good at dark magic, but I think something like that would help me learn. More importantly, it would help me help you… manage those outbursts."

"BLOOD AND THUNDER! DO YOU THINK A LITTLE HUNK OF METAL COULD…"

Robin winced.

"Exactly."

"I'm sorry!"

"No. It's just as much my fault for provoking you. And it's not like you did anything that Owain wouldn't in the outburst department. Hmm. Do you think there could be another version of it in the present? I'm not expecting to find anything, but..."

"My mother has it."

Noire slammed her mouth shut. That was another thing she didn't mean to say, added to a very long list.

"Tharja?"

Robin stroked her chin.

"Well. We've stared down roving bands of the undead, multiple armies, and we're in the middle of a war with the largest empire in the world. Your mother isn't much scarier than that."

Noire shuddered. Robin stroked her chin again, then nodded.

"Well, she doesn't need to know. We can sneak into her tent when she's busy. Just set up a rumor I'm somewhere else, and then we can get a quick look at your talisman, map out what it is, and leave before she comes back."

It wouldn't be that easy. Noire lifted a finger. Robin cut her off.

"I know it won't be that easy, but if it was, we wouldn't ever have any fun."

And Noire saw that smile. The same smile that came up when Robin heard Tiki talked in her sleep. The same smile that came up when she saw Ricken writing letters home. The smile that said Grima itself wouldn't dissuade her from whatever mischief she was planning.

"Al...alright."

"That's the spirit. It might be good for you to step out of Tharja's shadow a little more. You can't live your whole life in fear."

"It's… it's let me have a life?"

Noire tried to smile. It came out looking as sick as she felt. An uneasy ship on an ever growing ocean of discomfort.

Robin's smile stayed the same.

"Don't worry. I won't let you get caught if things get out of hand. Just meet me at your mother's tent at sundown. If I'm not there, something has gone very wrong with the plan, and you can consider it called off..."

Noire started to sigh in relief.

"For the night. And we'll try again tomorrow."

Noire's sigh died a lonely death. She tried to ignore the voice in her head counting down the hours until she'd join it.

The day passed in relative calm once Robin left. She helped around camp, spent a little time in the medical tent as an aftereffect of helping around camp, and managed to have a meal in relative peace. It was almost enough to forget that doom was waiting for her at sundown. Almost.

Noire crept out to the tent and hoped that she could hide if it went wrong. When it went wrong. For the first five minutes, she hoped that she could just run, that Robin had delayed things. Then she saw someone in position. A woman, roughly Robin's height, and with the same haircut. In fact, if she'd had a greatcoat, she'd swear the woman was…

"Noire!"

Robin.

"I didn't recognize you."

"It's the coat, isn't it? It's the perfect disguise. It doesn't even need to be there for me to blend in. I slipped Flavia a little from our oh-so-depleted emergency fund to wear in and slip into town for a bit. Tharja jumped at the bait, and now we have free reign of her tent."

"Are you sure it's a good idea?"

"No. But I am sure that we can keep the damage within acceptable margins, and I have half a dozen escape plans ready when and if this goes horribly wrong. Don't worry. Your safety is my top priority."

"And yours?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm sure Tharja would rather die than let any real harm come to me. Anything less than that is a teambuilding exercise."

"But she could curse you!"

"If she does, I can deal with it. I've felt worse from a night out with Chrom and Gaius. Much worse when Sully was along."

"If you say so…"

"I know so. And if we're done worrying, let's go inside."

Robin poked the tent flap.

"I've never been here before."

"I have. When Mother wants to try… something new out."

"She tests curses on you?"

"I didn't say she did."

Her eyes did, of course. But her mouth didn't. And that's what people counted. She wouldn't betray her mother. Not after all she did.

"If she did… well, it's not my place to judge parenting, Noire, you know that. But I could try to talk to her."

"There's no need to do that…"

"No, but I could...gods damned zipper! Sorry, Noire, I didn't mean to talk like Sully. But I could see if there's any better way to handle things. I know she'll listen to me."

The door fell to the ground, then slid back in place.

"Gods, she's hexed the door. I didn't give your mother enough credit. Of course, it's still a tent."

Robin's eyes flashed again, and Noire shuddered. The ideas were going to get worse with every delay.

"Hand me an arrow."

"What?"

"I don't want to risk a 500 gold sword on my own curiosity, and magic would risk collateral damage. I could find something else if you don't have any spares, but I think we both want to get in as soon as possible."

"And back out?"

"And back out."

Noire picked through her quiver for something she wouldn't miss. Robin took an arrow, gave a nod, and went to work on the canvas of the tent. Before long, she cut an opening wide enough for one person, if they were flexible, and handed the arrow back to Noire.

"Come on."

Noire nodded back and choked down the bile at the back of her throat. It would be fine, mother was gone. It would be fine. Mother was gone.

"It would be fine…"

"Noire?"

"Nothing."

"If you're feeling uncomfortable, I can find the talisman on my own. I don't want to make this too difficult for you. I just thought it might be nice if you saw these things can go well."

"They can?"

"You would not believe the number of times I've done something absurdly dangerous and came out without a scratch. You should expect the worst, but not every time. It's not a healthy way to live."

Robin looked around the tent and muttered under her breath.

"Now, where would I hide something valuable if I was a Plegian mage of questionable ethics and unquestionable… hmm."

Robin walked towards a locked chest and poked at the lock. After a few seconds, it fell open, and Robin's eyes went wide.

"Noire, why is this chest filled with locks of hair?"

"I don't know?"

"And… this is all my hair."

Noire looked away and hoped Robin didn't have any more questions.

"I wish I could say I was surprised. Still. It's kind of sweet, in an odd way. I think I see the talisman. I'll just take it, give it a look, and then we can sew up our entrance and..."

Her fingers grasped the talisman. The whole room flashed with thunder. And Robin fell to the ground.

After a few seconds, Noire crawled out from behind a pile of books and looked at the tactician's fallen body.

"Ro..Robin?"

"**Robin? Is that what you called me? How sad.**"

Noire fell back behind the books. It was impossible. It was a curse, that was all. Mother must have put a fear curse on her and now she was imagining things. That was all. Grima couldn't be here. Grima wouldn't even fit in the tent!

On the other side of the books, she heard a scraping on the floor. Robin stumbled to her feet.

"**Noire, was it? I can't believe you thought I cared about you. I spent every second listening to your pointless babbling wondering how your mother could be so idiotic as to sacrifice herself for _you_. If it makes you feel any better about your wasted life, it won't blight the world much longer**."

Noire curled up and whimpered. Grima wasn't here. Grima wasn't here.

"B...blood and thunder."

"**Oh. You're trying to be brave now. But whatever magic this… thing gave you is busy keeping me from falling into the weak little thing you thought was so valuable.**"

Noire shuddered. It wasn't possible. It was just a little thing Mother made. It was to make her safe. And now Grima was here and Robin was dead and everything was going straight to hell. She'd die too, a failure and a coward. It wasn't fair, but life wasn't fair, so that fit in.

The thing that mattered, though, was she would die failing the one person who was there for her when she needed someone. The person she cared most about in the world, excluding immediate family. Maybe even including immediate family. All for a stupid little toy Mother said she didn't even need.

Mother. She WAS the daughter of the most feared woman in the army (excluding Sully on chow night). She was Noire, named for the black nights and the cursed stars that even the gods feared! She had survived more dark magic and hexes than anyone else alive! She was...

Terrified. Beyond all reason. But she could try to do something heroic in this nightmare, since she was dead anyway. Unfortunately, most of her equipment was on the other side of the room, with Grima. All she had was the arrow she'd given Robin earlier. Not the most promising weapon. Even Cynthia would have said it was a bad tactic, and Cynthia's idea of a battlefield genius was someone who declared victory AFTER the enemy was dead. But she didn't have a choice.

Noire lept over the books at Grima, jabbing with the arrow.

"**You dare?**"

The body looked like Robin. The voice was Grima. Noire kept stabbing. And the creature's hand dropped the talisman.

"Noire?"

"Die, monster!"

"Noire, why are you poking my arm with an arrow? And could you stop?"

"What? I'm... I'm sorry."

"It's just a few scratches. I've had a lot worse. And... the talisman is on the floor. I'll just..."

Noire stomped on the talisman. Noire stomped on the talisman again. And a third time.

"Noire?"

Noire kept stomping.

"If... if that's the way you feel we can just leave. But I don't think Tharja will be happy."

Noire's foot stopped.

"It just..."

"I understand. There must have been some bad memories there. What matters is that you're safe."

Noire turned to look at Robin.

"You're... alright?"

"Well, except for holes you poked in my arm. I don't know why you did that. But if that came from the talisman, your mother was right to take it away. Speaking of Tharja, we should leave before she gets back. I can't think of anything scarier to meet in here than your mother in a bad mood."

* * *

><p><strong>Morgan: To Train a Tactician, Begin with her Grandfather<strong>

* * *

><p>"Morgan!"<p>

The girl's spine whipped straight.

"Sorry grandpa! I was…"

Morgan sagged again in the absence of a concluding statement. Chrom sighed.

Grandpa. Grandpa! When he was still learning the ropes of being a father! It staggered the mind. He'd tried to avoid thinking about it up until now. Seeing his mewling little daughter as a grown woman was enough to throw him for a loop. Then his best friend, the one man in the world he thought he could trust, had to go and… well, marry her. And then THEIR daughter came back, which made everything even more complicated.

He'd dealt with until now by just not spending much time with Morgan. She found enough around the camp to occupy her, and any meetings with Robin or Lucina could be scheduled to avoid her. "She'd want her time with her parents to be private." And her grandfather would prefer not to feel ready for the retirement home.

All clean and neat. But then Robin had to notice. Had to say that it would be "good" for them to spend more time together. And here they were. With his granddaughter carving something into the table with a knife.

"What were you doing?"

"...strategizing?"

"In the table."

"Well, you said to put away the books. So, really, this is your fault?"

"What are you even planning for?"

"Well, we're all going down to Plegia soon, and I was thinking that we might not be able to trust bad-grandpa. So, I thought I could help come up with some plans he might use, and then dad could come up with a plan to counter those plans."

Chrom nodded.

"That's… helpful. But he probably has it well in hand already."

"Well, yeah! He's my dad. It just makes me feel better when I can help."

"And he wouldn't want you to ruin the table."

Morgan shrugged.

"He's done it before."

Chrom frowned. Why did he have to tell Morgan that story? It might… gods. It was not a good night for anyone's dignity. Even VAIKE was embarrassed about it! He tried to push the conversation past the road block.

"That doesn't mean you can. What were you planning?"

Morgan smiled.

"Oh, a basic ambush. I mean, Plegia doesn't have that many trained soldiers right now, so they're going to have to use the element of surprise if they want to get anything done. I was thinking they could open with Katarina's enduring…"

And Chrom's eyes glazed over in a storm of technical terms and gambits.

"...anyway, you probably figured it all out for yourself. I've got a long way to go, huh?"

"I have no idea."

"Hahaha! Wait. You aren't joking."

Chrom stared. Morgan shook her head.

"Oh. I just thought you and dad talked about this kind of thing all the time."

"We talk about morale. We talk about the state of the army. I let him do the planning."

Morgan's face went to rubber.

"So mom didn't have a big book of strategy growing up? She didn't play Battles of Thracia and Naga's Favor Guides All before bed every night?"

"Probably not."

The rubber turned to a mask of horror.

"I knew she had a hard time growing up, but I didn't think it was that bad."

Chrom shook his head. His daughter had to grow up in a post-apocalyptic hell where the few survivors were hunted by armies of the undead. He couldn't see how missing out on a few games made things worse. From the look on her face, Morgan disagreed.

"I doubt I thought it was that important."

"We can't let it happen to her again."

"Well, I'm sure your father will…"

"Dad's going to be busy with me! You'll need to do it."

Chrom's hands flew up in protest.

"I'm not any good at…"

"Which means I have to teach you. Starting now."

"Sumia's waiting for me with baby Lucina right now! As soon as we finish here…"

"She'll understand. What's more important? Being a good parent, or being a little late for one night?"

Chrom had enough time as a father to know there was no right answer. Unfortunately, his granddaughter appeared to be the type to take every pause as a victory.

"Exactly! Just a second."

A book slid out of Morgan's sleeve and opened to the middle. With a gesture, it unfolded into a board. Small castles and forests emerged from the map. Morgan rattled her other sleeve and a box of pieces spilled onto it.

"Ta-da!"

"What is that?"

"Akaneia Warlords! It's what mom and I play, so it's not as tough to figure out. I figured we could go with the beginner rules, so it's not so tough. I'll let you pick factions first."

Morgan slid the board towards Chrom. He frowned. Brightly colored tokens sat in piles. Some looked like figures out of the history books, or like the armies of the past. Others could have, if they were larger, stood guard outside the castle without anyone noticing. After a few seconds, he picked up a blue piece.

"The hero king Anri. Are you sure you haven't played before? That's mom's favorite team."

"Yes."

"Okay then. I guess I'll go with… the DARK DRAGON LOPTYR!"

Morgan snatched up all the purple pieces from the stack and arranged them across the board. After a second, she took the blue pieces and slid them over Chrom's side before making the rest of the pile vanish up her sleeve. Chrom looked down at his army. Pegasus knights, cavaliers, archers. All familiar. And at the head, Anri, the first great hero of the armies of man.

Morgan had an assortment of dragons, monsters, and heavy armor units. It was almost a fair fight. But Anri had Naga at his back. The divine dragon, the goddess that saved mankind. With that kind of drive, nothing could stop him. Chrom smiled. This might not be so bad.

Ten minutes later, Morgan moved her dragons into his last castle.

"And the Loptyr sect desecrates the shrine, ending the game and plunging the world into a new era of darkness."

"I lost, then?"

Morgan winced.

"You really, really lost."

"It can't be that bad."

"On a scale of dad to Vaike, you were in the negatives."

In spite of everything, Chrom felt the need to defend his honor.

"I ran some strategies past Robin just a few weeks ago that he said were 'interesting'!"

"He was just being polite to spare your feelings. Well. At least we know where we are!"

Morgan smiled, and Chrom's stomach sank. It was going to be a very, very long night.

"Well, now you know archers are ranged units. Maybe it will take this time!"

"I haven't ever tried using pegasus knights as a shield against ballista fire. So, it's good to see what that would look like!"

"Grandpa, you can stop going easy on me now. I'm going to win anyway, and you'll learn more if you play your best. ...Oh gods. This is your best. Forget I said anything! You're… not getting worse?"

It was a relief when Sumia entered the room.

"Chrom, Lucina's off to sleep."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there. Our granddaughter arrived this evening."

Sumia turned to Morgan.

"Oh!"

"Robin dropped her on us without warning. My best friend."

Best friend came out much easier than son-in-law.

"You mean our son-in-law."

Well, it came out easier for Chrom. As much as he loved his wife, Chrom had trouble dealing with how she'd adapted to… current scenarios. He'd spent his daughter's wedding half insane. Sumia was smiling and telling her how beautiful she looked.

Gods! He should have thought of it sooner! This was the first time Sumia had a real chance to meet with their granddaughter! This was the distraction he'd been searching for. Chrom passed a silent prayer to Naga.

"Well, I've spent too much time keeping you two apart. I'll say goodnight to Lucina and...:"

He was halfway to the door before they could even look at each other. He was going to make it. It ruined the romantic evening he'd been planning, but that was torpedoed the second Morgan came through the door. At least he could…

"Wait grandpa Chrom!"

Be stopped an inch from freedom.

"I was just talking to grandma, and she'd love to see what we've been doing all night."

Sumia smiled.

"It's wonderful that you're spending so much time trying to be a better parent for baby Lucina."

Chrom coughed.

"Well, with the war over, I thought…"

Sumia looked down at the board.

"And is that a Ribald Tales of the Faith Wars map?"

"Yup! Dad bought it from Anna a few weeks ago. It came with the Lopt sect army and special rules for inheritance!"

"Oh my. Chrom, we'll have to play this with little Lucina when she's old enough."

"I'm pretty sure dad taught me how to play before I could walk. I'm teaching grandpa right now."

Chrom looked into Sumia's eyes and realized what was coming. As much agony as playing another round would be, the consequences for not playing would be much worse.

"Chrom, could you show me what you've been doing?"

"Of course."

"Grandpa's really been getting into the strategies of the game. I've never seen some of the things he's done."

Morgan's eyes flashed in Chrom's direction. Chrom could almost hear what she didn't say. She'd never seen them because in her house, anyone that tactically incompetent would have been tossed outside to feed the wolves. Or the risen. Or risen riding wolves, a frequent scenario in Robin's worst case plans. Sumia was already on her side, and every joke for months would be at his expense.

Robin was a good man, and a good friend. His daughter was clearly the devil. Chrom picked up a model of Marth, the hero king. Well, he had one last chance to salvage the his dignity. His ancestor would stand with him, for good or ill.

"Are you ready, grandpa?"

"As I'll ever be."

Morgan spread his pieces and hers across the board. Chrom looked at the castles and forests, the dragons and heroes. After a few moments, something deep inside him clicked. Something about the games. About how Robin saw the world. This wasn't just a game. It was war in miniature, swords and heroes clashing against the night. That was why he lost. It had to be.

Morgan moved her first piece. A chunk of metal slid on the board. But he could see what it meant now. A dragon crashed through the forests, a massive nightmare. And this was war. Men against the impossible. Marth would take his armies. He would try to fight.

His soldiers were cut down in waves. Chrom sent them to maneuver. To plan. To adapt. The dragon would fall. It COULD fall. He saw a die turn. To his armies, that meant something more precious. The creature was bleeding.

Morgan nodded. Smiled. And pulled the dragon back to retreat. Chrom was stunned. He hoped he could pull out a win. But he made Morgan retreat this early? It was amazing.

And then something else pushed through the brush. Chrom looked at his men, and to Morgan's piece. He could only tell what his men felt from Lucina's words. Because this wasn't a simple dragon. This was a god.

Chrom's forces were torn apart in the first charge. He was lucky that Marth and a few others could escape. Naga's grace gave him a chance to regroup and fight. But that was all he had now. Morgan's armies were bad enough, but he'd never seen the force of their leaders. Now, he wished it could have stayed that way.

Chrom looked over to Morgan.

"How is this fair?"

"Medeus has a really high point cost. Dad and I did tests, and it's really well balanced."

"You have a divine dragon. I have a few soldiers."

"Hey, Marth managed to win with the same things."

Chrom grumbled, but moved his pieces. Archers could pummel the dragon from a safe distance, allowing him to retreat his main army to safety. He didn't look back at what it cost him. Gods, in a real war he'd never be able to live with himself after this. And Lucina said she'd seen... this.

The dragon wasn't delayed for long. Knights. Cavaliers. Everything Chrom threw at the dragons was torn to ribbons. And then it was Marth. Alone against the monster. Everything else he had (precious little) was too far away to use. That was it. That was all he could do. Chrom sent the hero against the enemy, and hoped for a miracle.

"Wow. It's right out of the legends! Only, in the legends, Marth still had an army at this point."

Chrom winced. All or nothing. Marth stabbed into the fiend…

And the dice clattered out a 20.

Morgan lifted an eyebrow.

"Huh! Looks like you did it."

Chrom just smiled. It was at a cost. It was an unacceptable cost. But he won! He faced down the darkness, and…

Morgan moved another dragon to the castle, and she tipped over a panel next to it.

"And I won!"

Chrom stared.

"I thought you'd guess it was a distraction."

"Your distraction just destroyed my army!"

"Well, they can't get much more distracted than dead. Good game."

Morgan swept the pieces back into her sleeve, and the book with them.

Chrom stared at the table.

"Good game."

"Thanks. So, that's what we were doing, grandma."

"It really seems like you had a good time together."

"Yeah. Chrom's definitely the best grandpa I have. Which isn't saying much, since my other grandpa is evil and probably tried to have all of you killed last time, but…"

Morgan shrugged.

"I'm really glad I got to stay here. Dad and mom were right."

Chrom shook his head. Robin and Lucina normally were.

"What did they say?"

"That you were the… well, mom said SECOND best, but she said it was close. They agreed that you're really great. I mean, I spent the whole night beating you in the most embarrassing way possible, and you kept playing."

"What did you say?"

"Not just now, of course. I mean, it would be rude to do that in front of grandma. But you kept getting humiliated just to make me happy and maybe help mom have a better childhood.

"You were… testing me?"

"Everything's a test if you look at it right. I mean, I needed to know how you'd react under pressure for myself. Frederick would have stomped away by the second game. But you kept at it!"

"Well, self improvement is…"

"I mean, Uncle Henry would do that too, but he's kind of crazy."

"Of course."

"So, that's more important than how much you know about strategy. I mean, I knew you wouldn't be good at all."

Sumia giggled.

Chrom didn't.

"What made you think that?"

"Mom. She can only beat me, like, one time out of five. And she said you were even worse."

Chrom sighed. Well, for good and ill, the girl was family. He'd just have to try and deal with that.

* * *

><p><strong>(Author's notes: And here we have the delayed set. Hope it lives up to expectations. (As an extension, I hope those expectations weren't <em>too<em> high). In case it wasn't already clear, they're all set within the events of the game, between missions.**

**As for the individual substories:**

**Lucina: I did warn about more Morgan. Lucina's one of the few second generation characters who seems at all prepared for that kind of responsibility. Or, well, any kind of responsibility a lot of the time. Meanwhile, female Morgan struck me as... interesting in her relationship with her family. Male Morgan's kind of a moron a lot of the time, so I can see him convincing himself that it's not so bad, and that Grima is the parent he cared about. But Morgan(F) is one of the smartest characters in the game, in her scatterbrained way. On the other hand, her conscience... seems less reliable.**

**Brady: Not sure this one worked so well. The basic idea was contrasting Brady's priest work as a practical matter with Libra's attempts to understand what his position meant, but it didn't come together as well as I'd like. **

**Noire: First time Robin's shown up in the flesh instead of just being mentioned. And it's the other Robin. What can I say, she worked better for this. Male Robin's exclusive supports tend to be more cautious. Guy's _careful_, sometimes to excess. Female Robin still tries to keep everyone alive, but spends a lot more time messing with people. Not Morgan levels, but enough I'd assume some level of trouble from time to time. And anything that involves shooting a ton of dark magic right into the vessel for a god of evil seems like first rate trouble.**

**Morgan: Well, Chrom doesn't spend much time with his grandkid, if he has one. Which I figured was for a pretty basic reason, IE it's weird and requires thinking about things he'd rather ignore. Considered something more directly dangerous, but they're not the kind of people who'd let awkwardness interfere with matters of life and death. Games, though? Yeah. Morgan would be a nightmare for her poor grandfather.**

**And that's it for this time. )**


	4. Imitation of Life

**Inigo:** ** Child of a lesser god**

* * *

><p>A smiling rogue. A soldier of fortune. The second finest hand with a blade in all Ylisse, and by far the finest with a beautiful woman.<p>

Inigo was still trying to decide his entry line when the woman screamed again. Damn. He'd have to decide on his way down.

"Mind if I _cut _in?"

Perfect entrance! He just had to not think about the man on the receiving end of the blade. It was easier every time. Bow to the beautiful woman, menaced by bandits, and…

"Behind you!"

Turn to block before someone ruined a possible _date _with something as petty as a homicide attempt.

"I'm sorry, but the lady seems bored of your company. To get to the _point_…"

Right as the blade went through the ribs. Good timing! Disgusting, but good timing. Morgan would say that. If she was here. If she wasn't… gone. Like everyone else in his family.

Inigo shook his head. No point in dwelling on the past. Women hate a sulk. Keep smiling, for everyone else.

"She finds you dull. _Dead _dull."

He looked over the area for a third bandit. None came. Almost a pity. Two on one wouldn't be worth mentioning in taverns after. If he wanted a legend, then he'd have to step up the game. Still, maiden saved, teatime likely, and no injuries. A good day's work.

"My hero!"

And the classic response he knew and loved. Well, knew in theory.

Actually hearing it was rare. Normally, it was just screaming about all the blood, and convincing the poor damsel in distress that he wasn't going to do something, well, untoward took long enough that he was lucky to get to a peck on the cheek before someone had to go.

"At your service."

Bow and flourish. Not too extravagant. There was no need to put on airs. Not too rough. Elegance was a watchword, and every action should show it.

"Now, I hate to ask, but why were those bandits pursuing such a beautiful woman? I'd think less of a man who destroyed a stain glass window than one who would risk a true work of art like yourself."

Oof. Inigo braced himself for a slap. He overplayed already.

"I was just trying to bring the good word out here. They were bandits, but they deserve salvation as much as anyone."

No slap! Things kept looked up.

"Ah. A woman of faith. A shame your relationship with the gods must be strained."

"Why would you say that?"

"Their jealousy. Naga herself pales before your beauty."

The woman rolled her eyes, but not nearly as much as Inigo expected.

"Naga. Really? You have to attend a service, find out how things really work. The world doesn't need her empty words now. There's one in just a few hours. It should start when we arrive."

"Perhaps. But I would need tea time after. A little more… practical pleasure would balance out enlightenment nicely."

She smiled. Inigo decided to file that as an answer in the affirmative.

It was a calm ride and a good horse. Not as important as a beautiful girl to share them with, but Inigo had lived too long without either and the pleasures still had the tang of novelty.

"The father is waiting."

Inigo went inside, past waves of smiling faces. Some forced smiles, and he should know, but smiles all the same. He smiled back.

"Welcome, children. I see some new faces here. I do not know why you arrived, what nightmares you have seen in this poor, benighted country. But we should not lose hope. He is coming!"

Inigo wondered who "he" was. Probably competition. He'd need to act before who or whatever this was before all the girls started swooning over someone else.

"Yes. My dreams have shown me. For too long our enemy has held us back. Has crushed our spirit, and our own lords have done the same. Talking of men when the only thing that matters is the divine. But HE is coming to make things right. Even now his heralds stand in the royal palace. His children walk the sands. And soon, he will return…"

Inigo looked over the crowd. Well, they were enthusiastic for whoever was returning already. Not like Inigo'd be able to compete.

And something felt wrong aside from the insult to his romantic talents.

"GRIMA!"

Oh.

That explained everything.

The man at the front of the room held up a scroll.

"And lo! His sign is on the world!"

Inigo looked at the paper. Then he looked at his hand. Hmm. Okay. That was interesting. It was also an opportunity.

After all, they were a perfect match.

"You mean this sign?"

Inigo held up his hand.

"That's… the master's sign! His Avatar in the world."

"Yes? I've had dreams all my life, you know. Strange dreams of… a dragon."

Lucina would kill him if she knew. Stab him through the heart. Exploiting that kind of hell, just to impress a girl?

But Lucina wasn't here. He hadn't seen her for years. And everyone else would understand. Well, Morgan would understand.

"The dread dragon? Grima himself?"

"Grima. Yes. I remember that name. But I would need more time with someone tutored in the scriptures to understand my destiny. Perhaps one of the beautiful women here could tell me a few secrets of the order over teatime?"

And then, he could talk about it with her. Perhaps work in a little witty banter.

...Okay. Not that. That would be crass. But he could come up with something better. A man who couldn't come up with a good line when working with a whole cult worshipping him as a god incarnate wasn't trying.

"The chosen one!"

"Really? Well, I suppose…"

"Sacrifice him!"

And the mood was dead. Every third parishioner had a weapon out, and they were moving towards him. Inigo drew his sword.

"Now, I'm sure we can talk about this. After all, what kind of god…"

Inigo's arm flipped his blade to block a pitchfork. That kind of god. Well, he'd seen Grima in person. It did fit with the rest of his standard methods.

He slid towards the woman who invited him.

"Tell them how I saved your life! I do the cause more good alive!"

The woman's eyes were full of pity.

"The blood of the innocent feeds the mouth of the Righteous One. I'm sorry that it has to be this way."

And she plunged a knife into his arm. Inigo winced. This date was now in line with his standard. If it kept up, it might even somehow fall below it.

"I'm very sorry about this. Normally, I prefer not to hit women, but needs must."

"What?"

A jackrabbit right put her down for the count.

"Pleasant dreams. I hope I'm in them. Ideally, not as a human sacrifice."

Unfortunately, quipping left him open for the rest of the cult to close distance.

Inigo dove for the doors. Several spears followed him.

A horse was waiting. The same one from earlier. Inigo hoped it would be more reliable than the rest of the day's company. Naga had to go and punish him for his indiscretions, didn't she? He climbed it and jammed his heels into its haunches. Five minutes later, the whole building was gone from sight.

No sign of pursuit. Inigo sighed. Well, he thought he'd seen every way a request for teatime could go wrong. It looked like there was at least one more to add to the list. What would dad think?

No time to worry about that now. He'd found a woman who wanted to spend time with him. Now all he needed to do was find one who wanted him for something other than being related to a god of evil, and he'd be set.

* * *

><p><strong>Laurent<strong>: **Lone wanderer**

* * *

><p>Entry 1:<p>

I am alone here. I do not know how much further I am capable of tolerating this set of environmental conditions before indulging in invented stimuli and self maintained sub-realities…

Before I go mad. I hoped using more abstract terminology would blunt the injury to my fragile sense of self, but at the present juncture it makes no practical difference.

We completed the ritual, and the dragon Naga sent us into the past with minimal difficulty. However, I find myself separated from any other members of our company that may have survived the chronological transfer, and geographically isolated from any of their likely positions. Further, initial surveys indicate I am several years too early for any of the pivotal events. Any interference would be unpredictable. It would also reveal my presence to any agents of Grima in this era, and risk destroying any progress made by a more subtle attempt at restoring the safety of human life.

For the present (or should I say the past?) I will attempt to consolidate any information on my predicament. This journal should aid in the matter. It will also, in due course, help me to maintain my grip on my sanity in the face of whatever adversity should befall me, short of my untimely demise.

Entry 18:

I still have not made contact with any other humans. It seems a cruel joke of the gods, ending my tenure in one avenue of limited human contact where I was granted the small solace of a few boon companions, and sending me to an era rife in surviving members of our species, but removed from their presence except witnessed from afar.

I have seen a few. Bandits, judging by their equipment. Lucina described such individuals, but they scarcely survived into her earliest memories, let alone ours. Humans preying on other humans for sustenance and livelihood. Unthinkable.

I studied a few of mother's old journals hoping to better understand my new position until such time as I may rejoin the others. (Gods may that time come soon.) The positive trait of the era that I have most come to rely on is the abundance of food and supplies. I cannot imagine how the people living in such a position could feel the struggle of starvation. I could last for years on such sustenance as I have already secured. I hope that I will not need to put that statement to the test.

Entry 25:

I managed to make contact with a local merchant. Or, to be more accurate, she made contact with me.

I heard stories from Morgan of her mother's family, and how well they could find a potential customer in peacetime, but I never believed them. I suppose I was wrong to doubt her. If I had anyone else...

There is not point in agonizing over potential scenarios. We lost more than was acceptable by any margin. The details beyond that are not my present concern.

She offered a number of interesting tomes. More knowledge than I could ever have acquired in my own time. I might even be able to learn enough…

If this is not a dream. If this is not the last pathetic hallucination of a fevered mind before it is consumed with the rest of the world in the apocalyptic cataclysm that left the lot of us orphaned and alone.

Entry 38

I've established some connections with a nearby village. Anna (the same name as Morgan's mother. A coincidence?) has been taking the route frequently, and offered to help me for a small fee. Not charitable, but much appreciated. When I asked about the threat of Risen to a small convoy without heavy protection, she showed no sign of recognition. I knew in the abstract that the present… future era had no knowledge of such necromantic constructs, but confronting it in the concrete forces me to revise considerations of security and their deployment.

Further, it renders me reluctant to possess armament. With such creatures present, it is a natural defensive measure. However, in present circumstances my armament is only viable for...killing humans. I can scarcely imagine the desperation that would force such an action. To kill a fellow human being was unthinkable in our time. To hear Anna tell of it, there are some in the present era who do not even consider the cost of the action. I still feel sick to think of it. My stomach churns.

It also churns from an excess of rich pastry and victuals. I never had such opportunity in our era, and when the villagers set forth a feast to celebrate a local holiday… I may have overindulged.

Entry 53

I have established permanent lodgings in a local village. Rumors here have suggested that nearby ruins may possess the information required to find a legendary healing staff. I admit, however, the the overarching requirement fulfilled is human contact. The absence of every individual I had any personal relationship with is regrettable. No. It borders on insanity inducing, and leaves me dangerously unanchored. But the absence of any human contact is considerably worse, if my mother's writing on human psychological stimuli is to be considered authoritative. (As it was the only source available to me, I am forced to take it as accurate.)

I will do what good I can until I find an opportunity to meet with the others or to adjust history to prevent our regrettable circumstances. In either case, I must retain use of my full faculties such that I can recognize the opportunity when it arrives.

Entry 186

I had ever increasing difficulty in believing in the circumstances of my arrival. The dead walking. No-one had heard of such incidents. The world was not the barren wasteland of my growing years. No-one save Anna that I could meet had any relation to my comrades.

Now? Now I am again forced to confront the fact that the events of my youth will repeat, and my current position offers no opportunity to correct. If such a thing is even possible. Grima makes the dead rise and drowns the Earth in fire. One mage with a predilection for tomes of questionable combat utility can hardly hope to change the matter without more knowledge.

They attacked today. I was the only person prepared in any way. Rumors placed the first incident in Ylisse, but they spread with more speed than their natural gait would lead one to expect. I was able to subdue the majority of them with less damage than they managed with most attacks in our time, but they still… did more harm than I would find ideal.

I advocated the incineration of all bodies discovered. Ours and theirs. I only hope it is sufficient.

Entry 256

Years have passed since the creatures appeared. And nothing we have done even slowed our future.

In the past months, I have been pursuing a possibility. A rumor. Nothing I can be certain of, but they say a phantom village has the goddess staff, a legendary weapon that could perform miracles.

I have considered the possibilities. Such an object offers unknown possibilities. Myth and rumor, unless one has a firsthand source for the originating account like The Voice, is a poor basis for planning one's activities. But if it offers a slight possibility of salvation for humanity my time is a low cost of the opportunity. If... it grants the desires of one's soul, then mine are rather simple.

I wish to see my mother again. I wish to be reunited with my peers.

I want to not be alone. I fear it may be too much to ask.

But it's all I have.

* * *

><p><strong>Gerome: Does not want to be involved<strong>

* * *

><p>"Minerva, what are you doing?"<p>

Gerome paused. He'd asked that question far too many times since he arrived in this illusion. He had a simple goal. At first, it was to find Lucina, and try to convince her to return to their real duties. Now, he'd abandoned that. Lucina was gone. Every single human being from the real world was gone out of his reach. What was left was illusion.

Illusions and Minerva. The most adorable and perfect wyvern in the world, even before she was nearly the last of her kind. It wasn't the best place for a human to be, left with only a (clever, very clever) animal for company. But it was better than being alone in this facade. If only she didn't get drawn into things.

And now she was nibbling on a man's leg.

"She's chewing on my damn leg! Gods!"

"Minerva. Stop that."

Gerome nodded and turned. That was simple enough. And now he might be able to leave before this…

"Hey, is he your Wyvern?"

Gerome sighed. He was getting involved. Again.

"She is."

The man's eyes went wide.

"If you don't mind me asking… are you with Wal… no. No. Not in a position to look too close. Can you help us?"

Gerome knew what he should do. What he meant to do. He wouldn't say anything. He'd turn and walk away. The illusions would try to persuade him to stay, but he was elect. He knew how the world was, and that this was a poor imitation. Bait in a gilded trap. He wouldn't even give it the credit of a second's engagement.

"I have other duties."

Well, a few words wouldn't hurt. They just showed the world how not-engaged he was. Whatever was behind this fake could use a reminder that he wasn't falling for it.

"It won't take long! It's just… it's my family. My wife and my son. You must have seen those… things. The ones crawling out of graves."

"The Risen."

"You have a name for them already! Naga… I mean Walhart be praised. Whichever one you want me to bow to, sir, I'm for it. Sending me a man who knows what those are. My family was out there when those things showed."

"Then you should save your breath for mourning them."

"Look, I know, I know, but… there's got to be a chance, right? I mean, they weren't the only ones. We've got the walls up, but they're out on their own. I mean, you look like you've dealt with them before. A quick check. It's all I'm asking."

"And if they've fallen like so many before?"

"Then… at least I know."

Gerome knew what to do. What he should have done at the start of the conversation. He'd just turn, climb on Minerva, and fly away. Forget about the latest attempt to bait his sympathies. Forget about this whole illusionary world, and continue his quest for something to return to reality.

"...Fine. Minerva, come."

Gerome climbed on his wyvern and watched the ground fall away. Minerva turned to him the second the village left sight.

*Hff!*

"I don't know why I let you talk me into this."

*Hrr.*

"If this was my decision, we would have left them to their own devices. This world is doomed already. Fate has chosen its path, and we can but follow it."

*Grrp. Grrp. Grrp.*

"I know what I would do on my own. I tread the shadowed paths far too deep to ignore their perils. I know the illusionary world is no kinder than reality, though it seeks to bait the trap far better."

*Rrr*

"I do not sound like I'm trying too hard!"

*Snrrk.*

"What do you mean by that? Owain acts like a child. Or Cynthia. We're nothing alike."

"Hhh."

Gerome didn't even dignify that statement with a response. Minerva was obviously trying to get him to bite. He was above that now. Morgan did the same thing. And…

They never found her body. Never even mounted a full rescue. She'd drifted too far and she was gone. Like his parents. Like everyone else. Reality was a series of cruel seizures and tricks. They said that not finding the body meant they might still be out there, at first. They were fools. Even then, Gerome had the sense to know that the world did not return what it stole. Lucina fell for it, and now they were all trapped. If only he'd argued better for protecting what they had. They might only have a few years left, but every year stolen from Grima was a prize worth the taking. Every life saved was a victory beyond compare. They would die, but all men die. What they took, the wounds they left on the dark god would be their monument in eternity! At the end of all things, in the corpse of a dead world, Grima would wince, and shudder, and curse those frail few creatures who dared defy it.

But no. They fell for the trap, and now they would be remembered as weak willed cowards. If it remembered them at all.

*SKREEONK!*

Minerva knocked him out of his reverie. He was so obsessed with the folly that took him here that he almost missed the echoes of the real world below. Risen stalked the ground. Terrible creatures, mockeries of life. He gave them a glance.

No real weapons. No real armor. They must have been peasants and farmers in life. Ill suited to war, and easy prey for the monsters in the night.

Easy prey for him, too. If he kept his wits about him. Gerome was a lone wolf. A hunter without peer. Even separated from his companions, he would be more than a match for the horde. And even here, he might be able to give them a little peace. It was all that was left to them.

Minerva dove for the ground. Gerome readied his axe and muttered a few words to Naga. His father's legacy.

Three fell before the first blow. Three more joined them when Minerva swept her tail. Five. A pair. Four. The horde broke at the attack. He didn't leave them their retreat. If one of the creatures escaped, it might menace another innocent life. He couldn't let that happen. The monsters would end here.

Or he would. Gerome paused and almost had something rip into his leg for his trouble. He knew this was a trap. And he'd fallen for it, as much as Lucina. There might still be an escape, and he'd never find it if he died. Minerva had drawn him into it, but it was his decision to fight these things. His decision to waste his one chance at redemption on an illusion, just because it reminded him of what he should have been protecting. And by all odds he came too late already.

Some of the fallen risen had clothing and tokens like those of the villagers. It didn't take much thought to realize what happened. He could bring a body back, but what would that accomplish? A sorrowful puppet, and another sign of his own weakness. That was all.

His weakness that would be his death if he didn't move. A risen lept for him with a curved sword. He must have missed it in the initial rush, an undead swordsman from Cho'sin. It must have stumbled here from an earlier fight. A few villagers encountered it, and the horde grew from there. Gerome fell from Minerva to avoid the charge. He landed flat on his back. The retreat bought him a few seconds, nothing more. And the blade was aimed at him again. The creature lept through the air. A fumbled pary made Gerome drop his axe. Fate had another victim. And Grima had a last joke at his expense. Dead in a world before he was born.

*SKKRRROOONNNKKK!*

Minerva's jaws crushed the risen like a grape.

"Thank you."

Minerva nodded. She didn't smile, or mention the favor. Another reason to appreciate her. The last family he had.

Gerome prepared to leave. And then he heard a gasp. Small. Soft. But he heard it all the same. It was human. And it was close. Gerome followed the noise to a cavern. He tapped his axe on the walls. Another gasp.

"Minerva, watch the entrance. I don't want to be surprised."

*Hrrf*.

Gerome nodded and descended into the cavern. His nose wasn't a patch on Minerva's or Yarne's, but he was something of a tracker, and that meant developing his senses. He didn't need another gasp. He didn't even need the frantic pounding of a small heart. He knew where he would have hidden when he was small and afraid. And he found a small child. A frightened little boy, hoping that the black clad monster covered in blood hadn't found him.

"You don't need to worry."

The boy poked his head out. Gerome grabbed his collar.

"Let me go!"

"You still breathe. Fate has been denied for another day."

The boy looked at him for a second and stopped kicking.

"Who are you?"

"A traveler. A lost soul borne on wings of time."

The boy stared. Gerome was very grateful for his mask.

"Do you always talk like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're in a bad play."

"I speak the truth. The illusions of the world…"

Gods. He was sounding like Owain.

"It is no matter. Your father sent me to find you. Fate missed its prey for the moment. Flee before it corrects the mistake."

The boy paused.

"I'm going to put you down. Minerva and I can take you to temporary safety."

"What about my mom?"

"We don't have time to mourn."

He didn't have time to look at the boy either. He knew the look. Oh, he'd lost both parents at once. All that did was condense the pain. Losing one at a time, losing the pair. All came out the same in the end. Another shock of cruelty from a world with no shortage.

"I just saw her!"

"Nothing was outside but the wailing echoes of the living. I gave her a mercy."

The boy smiled. Gerome shuddered. Even Henry would have paused at smiling for a friend's death, let alone family. All human life was sacred, but blood held more.

"I meant that I…"

"No you didn't. She's still in here. MOM! We can come out now!"

A woman stumbled out from the darkness. A few others followed. Not many. Not much saved from the ravages of the world. But more than Gerome ever expected. More than he would have hoped for, if he allowed himself the luxury of hope.

"Gods. I didn't think… are you from Rosanne? I heard they sometimes, I mean before it fell, they sent knights out to… but we're so far away!"

"My origins are of no concern. You have a little more time before the inevitable end. Make use of it."

Gerome walked to the entrance, shaking his head.

He never should have come here. Never should have allowed himself to be manipulated like this. Never should have fallen for the false hopes that ensnared Lucina and the rest. And he'd seen how this went before. How it would go if he ever allowed them to trick him again. Nothing would survive. He would nearly lose his life, hurt Minerva, all in vain.

But for the moment…

Gods help him. For the moment he felt happy.

* * *

><p><strong>(Author's note: First, basic apology. This batch is shorter and, if I'm any judge, weaker than any of the other chapters. Think it's not bad, if I thought it was I like to think I wouldn't have put it up here, but there's definite problems with the format I took, and there's nobody to blame but me. Set this set when the cast was tossed to the four winds without realizing that, you know, it meant they couldn't bounce of each other. Might not have been the best call, especially with people like Gerome who do better when someone more dynamic is there to play off them. Still. Live and learn.<strong>

**Individual story notes:**

**Inigo: So, the basic idea was fairly simple. Inigo is exactly the kind of person who would do something really, really stupid for a chance with a girl. Inigo with a birthmark putting him as a major religious figure for a cult of the apocalypse would do something even more stupid. And here we are.**

**Laurent: Full disclosure. Laurent is maybe my least favorite character in the game. He's just so... dull. Sure, there's a couple fun supports, but where the other second generation characters are mostly psychos with an interesting angle, he's just his mom with all the fun mad scientist stripped out. The isolation angle is sort of something, but it also makes him look more ineffectual. I mean, nobody expects Cynthia to get anything done on her own, but if you're supposedly the smart one of the group and you've accomplished approximately nothing in five years... well. Tried my best, anyway.**

**Gerome: At least he has Minerva to play off. Without her, he could get pretty dull. But the contrast between the image he wants to project and his occasional total gooberness is usually amusing.****)**


	5. Days of Future Past

**Severa: Less than Perfect**

* * *

><p>"Severa. I'm… I'm sorry."<p>

Severa didn't turn to look. Of course she was sorry. Of course she'd say it was her fault. Lucina always took the blame. Even when no-one could accuse her.

A decent person would say "No. It's not your fault. It's mine." There was enough pain for two without amplifying it. Without lying about who did what. Enough guilt no matter how you shoved it around.

Severa didn't feel like a decent person.

"You should be."

Lucina opened her mouth.

"And I don't want to hear one more damn word!"

Lucina closed her mouth and backed away. Good. Little miss perfect should know how everyone else felt. Now the only person for Severa to hate was herself.

Her sister was gone. That made a clean sweep. There were five of them once. Happy little family. Perfect mother, perfect father, adorable baby brother, brilliant younger sister. And Severa. Severa who tried. Severa who shouldn't feel bad. Severa, the castoff.

Now Severa was the only one left. First mom died doing something stupid for Chrom. Left them all alone. Then dad went missing when Chrom died. Someone stole Mark away, probably as a sacrifice to Grima or the Risen. It was just her and Morgan. Two against the world.

They weren't much of a family. But Severa made sure they were a good one. She kept Morgan safe from the undead, safe from starvation, safe from the world. She got them to Ylisstol.

And, to be fair, Morgan was worth it. The perfect daughter for a perfect family. What Severa wanted to be. Smart. Adorable without even trying. (Not like Severa, who had to work for hours to look right.) Funny, upbeat and charming. Even her flaws were charming. You'd hate her if she wasn't so stupidly loveable.

In her worst moments, Severa thought that, even if she was a waste, she was at least bringing up the daughter her parents deserved.

Then Morgan… then Severa let Morgan go on a scouting mission. She'd killed a few Risen. Seen people die. She was an adult, more or less, and there was no point keeping her from doing something simple.

Then risen had to ambush them out of nowhere. No reason for it, not many people, no real mission. Just one minute they were gone, then they were gone with no coming back.

Severa was alone. No point in living but living. But dying would make her even more of a burden. She existed. Killed risen. Took in food. Killed more risen. Slept.

Lucina worried about her. Lucina worried about everyone. The rest of the army was just grateful Severa wasn't talking down to them so much.

Severa drifted towards the edge of camp. To long range patrols. To things on the border of death. Not many people missed her. And all the people she missed were gone already.

It wasn't much of a life. But it was constant.

"Severa? Are you there?"

She scrambled to her feet when she heard the voice. Sword out. Shield ready.

The voice spoke again.

"Wow. I've never seen you get up this fast. Isn't a growing woman supposed to brush her hair like, a thousand times if she wants to look her best?"

"...Morgan?"

A girl stepped out of the shadows. Red hair. Bright eyes. A smile. (Tired and sad compared to the usual, but it was still a smile.)

"Yup! Still your favorite sister."

"You stupid little turd! You know how much I worried about you? With mom and dad gone, and, I mean…"

Severa cried for the first time since her mother died. It was too hard to cry when things went wrong these days. This was something too right.

Morgan leaned in for a hug.

"Sorry. If it makes you feel any better, you were totally right about uncooked bear meat being better."

Severa smiled.

"I was joking."

"Oh. Well, it totally is."

"We've got to get back to camp. Lucina and Cynthia have been so smug lately. It's time someone reminded her what a good younger sister looks like."

Morgan stepped back.

"I'm sorry. I can't."

"Why not?"

"Dad's… um, are you sitting down? No, wait, ha ha. No chairs out here! Dad's alive."

"WHAT?"

"I knew you'd be surprised."

"That's impossible. He died with Chrom."

"They never found the body."

"Like he'd abandon Mr. Perfect. Mom died for him. Dad did the same. Look Morgan. I know you think you saw his body or something stupid like that, but dad's dead. And you're not."

"No. I saw him! Mark too."

"What?"

"You know. Our brother? Chubby cheeked cherub? Oh, hey. Alliteration! Anyway, he's with dad too."

"If dad was alive he wouldn't have abandoned us!"

Severa slammed her mouth shut. She didn't care that much. She didn't need him, or mother. She and Morgan were enough.

They had to be enough. People don't come back. Or at least, they didn't come back right, didn't come back as anything but a shambling corpse you needed to put down.

"He just wanted to… it's dad. It's really dad. I don't know why he wasn't there before, but he wants to be a family again. Isn't that enough?"

"No! He runs out on us like mom, leaves me to try to keep you safe for ten years, and he doesn't even say he's sorry?"

"I'm… he's really sorry. I think."

"Well he can tell that to Lucina. Tell her he's sorry he got her father killed and left all of us listening to her all the time."

"Um, that's… that's not going to work."

"Well too bad! If he's really sorry then he can tell someone he hurt who might forgive him."

"Uh, Severa? Didn't you say that you were glad Chrom was dead?"

"That doesn't matter! Gawds Morgan, everyone knows I'm horrible! But dad wasn't! He should be making things better! He should be fixing everything."

"He can't."

"He should! We need someone to fix everything! He couldn't be a good dad because he was too busy saving the world? Well now I want him to save the world! It's too late for him to be a good dad. Maybe it's too late for the world too, but he should at least try!"

Morgan slid her foot on the ground.

"WELL?"

"Maybe… dad doesn't want it saved?"

"Then dad's a… wait. What?"

"I don't know! He just wants us to be together again. You, me, our baby brother, who isn't really a baby anymore but "

"Morgan, that's insane. You're insane... but that's okay. Everyone loved how crazy you were anyway. Just come back. Everyone misses you. I miss you."

"I can't."

"You can! It's easy. I could do it, and no-one likes me half as much as they like you. We need something to go right, Morgan."

"But… dad."

"Forget dad!"

"I can't. He needs me. Are you sure you can't come?"

"Yes!"

Morgan frowned for the first time in Severa's memory.

"I can't stay, then. This is goodbye, then?"

"It doesn't have to be, you idiot!"

"It does. So, um,"

Morgan leaned in for another hug.

"I love you. You're the best sister I could have ever had. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. Thanks. I love you too."

Morgan vanished into the woods. Severa fell back into her bedroll and slept. In the morning, there was nothing. Not even a footprint.

Severa walked back to camp after another five days of patrol. Nothing but risen came after that, and not many of them. It would have been easy to believe she hadn't seen anything, if she wanted to. But the memory stayed.

Lucina met her at the gate with Owain and Gerome. Fresh off a strategy meeting or some other exclusive club. Ugh.

Imagine the looks on their faces if she'd brought dad back. Dad and Morgan and even her kid brother. They'd change their attitude then.

No. Wait. They wouldn't. That was the worst part of people that perfect. They'd all get along and maybe even smile about how things had gone right for once. How they had a chance again. But they wouldn't think less of her for not managing it.

Severa took away the one thing they might feel good about, and they would just tell her they were glad she came back alive. Hooray for the failure. At least if they yelled at her, she could get some pleasure in hating them.

"Did you see anything, Severa?"

"Just risen. Not that many, but it felt like there were going to be more soon. They were probably setting up a trap or something stupid like that."

"The Risen were planning? That's not normal. Do you think Grima could be coming?"

"Gawds, Lucina! If you want more, go out and ask them yourself!"

"I'm sorry. But this could be important."

"I don't know! Now go bother someone less tired of your miss perfect act!"

Lucina stepped back. Owain opened his mouth, but Severa shoved him to the side before he could do something stupid. She didn't have the time for him now.

The walk deeper into the castle was miserable. Severa had one thing she'd done right over the years. One thing. And even that was gone now. What kind of excuse for a human being was she? Her mom would be ashamed of her. Anyone in their right mind would be ashamed to have her for a daughter.

Her pity party was interrupted by a soldier's bark.

"And where do you think you're going?"

Severa straightened her back for an argument. Then she looked. The man was yelling at someone else. The white haired girl she'd seen around the camp a few times backed away from him.

"I'm sorry! I just… Lucina told me to… I mean… err?"

"A likely story, Plegian scum. I don't know why her highness lets your filthy kind breathe the same air as honest Ylisseans, but I am not her highness."

Severa turned to the man.

"No, you're not. You're a petty little coward who couldn't look at a risen without running away so you're taking it out on a teenage girl."

"How dare you! Who are you to criticize me?"

"Well, I'm someone who was just outside the wall fighting for my life. But if you think you're so much tougher, fine."

Severa pulled her sword. It wasn't a threat. Killing a human being, well, no-one could do that. Not here, not with everything they'd seen. But a little humiliation was fine if he kept acting stupid.

The soldier didn't. He bowed and backed away. Severa was alone with the other girl.

"What a jerk! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Really. It's not so bad."

"He had some nerve, walking all over you like that. Come on. What do you need?"

"Well, some food would be nice."

Severa reached in her pack. Bear meat. Of course.

"Done. It's probably not good, but it's what I had. Anything else you need?"

"No."

"Wrong! You need an older sister to keep scumbags like that from bothering you. I'm Severa."

She extended her hand.

"Noire."

The other girl shook Severa's hand.

"Good to meet you. Come on. There's got to be something better than bear meat around here."

Severa grinned. Well, maybe there was something she could do right. Even now.

* * *

><p><strong>Yarne: Last one standing<strong>

* * *

><p>The knight looked at his son. Looked past his son.<p>

"Your mother would be… proud of you."

Yarne listened to his father's lies and nodded. The catch in his voice told the real story. Oh, he could charge a training dummy, but come a real fight or flight situation, he'd pick flight every time. Meanwhile, the real soldiers like Kjelle and Gerome were already on the front lines. He'd picked garrison duty 'protecting his lord' just to avoid action.

Speaking of his lord, she was breaking half a month's worth of training supplies. Lucina pulled her blade out of the dummy and turned to them. Lucina. Exalt to be and the woman who he was going to be sworn to defend.

The woman who was a better knight than he would ever be already.

"I'm honored to have both of you here, but at this hour, no-one would blame you for returning to your quarters."

Yarne felt his legs ready to turn from the field.

But Frederick shook his head.

"I could say the same to you, my liege. But I've spent too much time around you and your father to expect it. Which means we have to stay on duty to ensure you won't work yourself to death."

Yarne was already muttering under his breath. His father's words only increased the volume.

"So we can work ourselves to death too."

Frederick turned to his son.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"We respect our sworn lord, Yarne. Apologize to Lucina. I'm sorry for my son, my liege. He still has much to learn before he can..."

"Think nothing of it."

Lucina returned to stabbing the dummy and shattering her practice blades. Yarne sighed and stepped forward. If he could run, he'd run. But his father would never allow it. Hours passed, his limbs ached, and his ears picked up the distant screams of battle and the moaning of the dead. He never wanted to be this far out in the borderlands. But Lucina decided to tour the outer walls as part of her duty as Exalt, and his father had insisted that they stay close to protect her. Which put them all out here. Training to stave off death for others a few more days, and inviting death themselves if the walls broke. He'd be dead like his mother and his siblings if they kept this up. Extinction for all of taguel kind. He stumbled into bed shivering, and woke to the bugle for first watch. Training filled every hour not doing chores, patrol, or at a meal.

That was his life for the next few weeks. His miserable, perpetually terrified life, and only better than the alternative because the alternative was death. His father met him every morning to ensure he knew his duty. And every day, he heard the noises of battle draw closer. The humans might not notice, but taguel ears didn't miss the increase in moaning. Death wasn't likely. It was a certainty if they stayed. But Yarne knew that no-one would listen. It was just more of his youthful fatalism. Something that his father tried to work out of him, exercise out of him, and generally remove from his systems to no effect. Some people were made to be heroes. Yarne wasn't. All there was to say. It was hard to guess when the end would come, but it was on its way. All he could do was try to accelerate Lucina's return to the relative safety of Ylisstol and hope she left before his species went extinct.

But his attempts bore little fruit.

"So, by now you've figured out how things go here, err… my liege. So, we should head back now! Lissa's probably worried."

"I need to see the defenses in action before I can say I know these people. And I've heard the sounds of risen in the distance. They could use our assistance."

And the conversation ended when his father arrived. The next day, Yarne tried again, with a different approach.

"I'm sure that they're tired of bedding guests."

Which a guard took as an opportunity to walk by and interject.

"Never, sir. Her highness is always welcome here, especially in times as dark as these. Brand lights up the whole room, and the blade extends it to the fort. It would be an honor to die in your presence, your majesty."

"I can't say I would enjoy it. Ylisse needs you alive. Gods know few enough of us still stand. And I'm sure others would regret your loss even more than I would."

"Certainly, my liege."

Death came closer. Yarne shuddered. He knew he'd go extinct one of these days. With the world the way it was, everyone was doomed. But he wanted to delay it, to savor the last few days weeks months. It seemed no-one here agreed. The monsters were a week out then and Yarne couldn't even escape them in sleep.

His first memory returned in his dreams. His mother. His brothers and sisters. All together. All happy. And then, Risen.

He couldn't remember how they arrived. How they broke into the warren, killed his brothers and sisters. Killed his mother as she shielded him. Then the knight arrived. His father. He couldn't help anyone else. Didn't help anyone else, left them to die. And he was dragged away to the cold stone. He learned his lesson then, years before the rest of the world. Everyone was going to die.

One night, the dream was louder than before. Much louder. Yarne woke to breaking walls and screaming.

"They've breached the gate! THEY BREACHED THE GATES! Gods! Someone sound…"

Gurgling. Moaning.

Yarne's feet hit the ground and the air. He ran for the wall. It didn't matter if there were more of them out there. It didn't matter if he was unarmed. Staying in was suicide! He passed a falling guard, a man he'd eaten with hours ago. He didn't look as the corpse twisted and rose to its feet, joining the horde of the dead. He didn't look for the source of the screaming. He didn't even look for a weapon. He wasn't a knight! He'd never been a knight. It was all lies to appease his father, a comfort against the dark. This wasn't a safe patrol, this wasn't practice. This was life or death, and Yarne chose life, if he could grab it.

Then he heard another voice. His father's.

"All knights of Ylisse, to me. We make our stand here!"

And an advanced subroutine of Yarne's complicated calculus of cowardice kicked in. It would be safer outside if the place fell. It would be safer inside if it were secured. And if he knew for sure, he could make a better plan. Just a glance. A glance would be enough to finish his route. A smaller voice told him that abandoning his father would be more difficult if he saw the disappointment in the old man's eyes, but he let that slide. Not the time for that worry. Too many others jostled ahead of it.

They'd formed a ring on the edge of the inner barracks. Spears jabbed from every hole in the defensive line, and the Risen were falling. Not fast enough to prevent disaster. Not enough to push back. But they were holding the line. If he was a hero, then he'd join in. He wasn't. He wouldn't. And maybe they'd provide enough of a distraction to save his own worthless hide. Just like the rest of his family. Yarne hated himself. Hated himself more than the Risen or anyone else in the world. Any thing, too, except dying. He'd run, and they'd all die, and that would be the end of anyone being willing to be around him. Lonely life, lonely death.

And then he saw a streak of blue.

Further out, cut off. It was probably his mind playing tricks. Reminding him he'd leave his sworn lord to die. And he was running anyway. It was a few seconds before he noticed that he was running in the opposite direction. Towards the fight.

"Yarne! You're alive. Thank the gods."

He didn't say anything. He was too busy staying alive. If his instincts gave up on running, they could at least keep him in the fight. He saw motion. Others coming to his position. Lucina fighting like a demon. His father closing in and skewing half a dozen entombed in a charge. But he didn't react to any of it. His body followed the routines of combat, drilled into him countless times. He held his position. And when the tide turned, he was still standing. They won. Somehow, they won.

And his father was coughing on the ground. Lucina was next to him, but she wasn't a cleric. Even if she had been, there would have been nothing left but burning the body.

A last breath wheezed out of the man.

"Your mother would be proud of you."

This time, it was true.

* * *

><p><strong>Morgan(M): Innocent Sinner<strong>

* * *

><p>Morgan loved his mother.<p>

It was important to remember that. It was the one thing he could be sure of. Father was gone, his older sister was gone, and his younger sister was acting strange lately, even by her standards. The castle was nearly empty, the few remaining servants slouched and groaned when they did their work, everything was dead outside. To sum up, it was the sort of time that could really cut into a guy's natural sunny attitude and zest for life.

But no matter how things changed, he could be sure he loved his mother. Even if she hadn't been as good about showing she loved him back lately. He looked to her, across the room. The servants were gone. His sister (the one he could still talk about) was gone. It was a perfect time for family bonding.

"Mother! I was thinking that we could play something!"

"Of course you do. Tiresome whelp."

"If you don't want to…"

His mother shook her head.

"No. We're a family, after all. Our bonds are precious. So we'll do what you asked. Do you have one in mind?"

The words could have burned through steel, but Morgan laughed.

"Naga's Favor Guides All! It's the best and sometimes I even managed to beat you and…"

"NAGA?"

Morgan stepped back.

"I'm sorry! It's just the one Lucy got for my birthday because the box had a really…"

"Lucy?"

Morgan lifted his hands.

"I'm sorry, mom! I forgot!"

"Don't mention that wretched piece of Naga tainted TRASH in my sight. Do you hear me?"

Meep.

"Of course, mother."

His mother nodded.

"Now. What were you trying to spit out of that wretched little mouth of yours before it tried to betray us both?"

"I just wanted to play a game. I thought you might… I mean, you always used to. Maybe… warlords? There's a bunch of sets around the castle. You had… you bought a bunch of them. Anna said they were cheaper in bulk?"

"Then find one and bring it here. I prefer when you don't waste my time."

Morgan ran into the hall. Warlords! Not his absolute favorite, of course, and all the fiddly little models had been a pain to put together, and the rules were sometimes confusing, but it was a game! With mom! And sure, she'd win easily, but he'd learn, and she'd point out what he did wrong, and maybe someday, with luck, he'd be as good as she was.

He almost tripped carrying the box. Mother rolled her eyes. She never used to do that. Well, that was what was fun about life, right? New things! New experiences! New ways to disappoint the one person in the world he most wanted to please. But thinking about that was downbeat and gloomy, so he'd try to not.

"So, you can be the BLACK FANG mercenaries, and I get the Greil mercenaries. That way neither of us has to deal with the special rules for holy blood."

He smiled at his mother. She had to remember that night. Three hours with the rule sheet. Him and her and his sisters, all trying to figure it out, and then dad came stumbling in and asked why they couldn't just… make a guess. Then he tried to look at the rules. Ha! He'd never seen dad so confused, and that was with the basic deployments!

His mother's face was blank. Morgan tried again.

"Because, that one time…"

"Do you want to play your ridiculous game, or do you want to waste my time?"

"The game."

Morgan spread his armies on the board and let his mother place hers. He ran through her usual openings, trying to remember weaknesses. She had to know he'd plan to counter them, but she sometimes let him take a little ground. His sister said that was just getting a leg up on the old woman, but Morgan had his suspicions. It wouldn't be too much work for mom to throw a few rounds to encourage him to keep trying. Well, he'd try a basic counter, and hope the mind game didn't go too deep.

But he didn't see a single gambit he recognized in his mother's opening moves. If he didn't know better, he'd say it was an amateur's play. Just tossing her mercenaries into the open like they were training dummies! Fortunately for him, he knew his mother was the finest strategic mind in all Ylisse. She'd only do something this dumb as part of a trap. He'd be a fool to go for it.

Then again, what had she said last time he tried to lure her out with an easy target? "Taking the bait is fine, if you don't get trapped doing it." If he could poke without losing his archers, he might get a few points early, before she could get her real plans going. He moved his best sniper in position.

Roll. Roll. Bang! And three Wyverns were down in less than a turn! He'd pay for it. There was no way he wouldn't. Worth it, considering he'd never scored this solid a blow on mom's army before turn five.

He looked up at mother and smiled.

"Took your wyverns."

He expected one of two things. Exaggerated rage to cover just how proud she was, or that little glint in her eyes that said he'd just fallen for something big. He didn't see either.

"Oh. You did."

"Which… means I scored, like, five points."

"I have more soldiers."

"But you lost those ones! So I'm winning."

"I have more soldiers. Why should I care I lost a few? I can replace them."

Morgan grimaced. Well, technically she could. But that meant going for the reinforcement rules, and lots of extra rolls, and a lot of victory points for him once they finished with the rule sheet and the associated cursing-so-hard-Sully-would-blush.

"I guess? But…"

And then his sister fell into the room with an arrow in her arms and the game was more or less over.

"Sis!"

"Hey Morgan."

She smiled. Her face was streaked with blood.

"Another great day out there!"

Mother swept the board aside.

"Have you killed her yet?"

"Nope. Turns out trying to outfight someone two years older than me with WAY more natural talent? It isn't easy! Managed to sweep up some of her retainers, though. So, we're making progress!"

"Then you failed. Get out of my sight."

"Love you too, mom. Uh, we do have a cleric somewhere, right?"

"Keep track of your own toys. Lick your wounds, and then take your… brother to remind him of his duties."

Morgan never quite knew what his duties were. Or what his sister did on the trips out of the castle. All he knew was that she got hurt a lot. Like when dad used to go out.

He didn't like thinking about it. Sis would be okay, of course. She was smart, nearly as smart as mom, and made sure she was always training. But she wasn't invincible. The blood on the carpet said that much. Morgan followed her to her room.

The room was the same as always. Floor covered with marked up maps, little toys mom bought them back in the good times across the shelves, half read tactical manuals everywhere. Uncle Frederick had always tried to get them to clean up, but he hadn't been in for a long time, and the room showed it. Dad could have tripped and fallen on anything! Maybe that's why mom didn't want him back.

His sister looked up from a slump.

"Hey kid brother!"

"I'm older than you are."

"By, like, five minutes. And if we're going by brains and experience, I am WAY older."

"UNFAIR! Mom lets you go out all the time and makes me stay in and the only thing I get to do is work with you on strategies!"

"Which, to be fair, you're pretty good at."

Morgan smiled. He was. He even got near beating mom today! Sure, it was only because mom hadn't been playing as well as usual, but that happened. It happened a lot lately. His mind flashed to a graph he and his sister had been working on. What was it? Grumpiness and tactical ability over time?

As grumpiness rose, tactical ability fell, both at a steady rate over the past few years. Morgan was proud of his findings. Mom had been… less proud.

He thought people being so mad they could breath fire was just an expression!

"Uh, Morgan?"

He snapped back to attention. His sister wanted him for something. Perfect. She wanted to get help. He wanted to be helpful. It fit!

"Yep! That's my name!"

"Your strategy worked pretty well today."

"Well, it was pretty easy. We have huge armies, and we're only up against, like, a dozen people at a time most of the time. Some of them might be pretty tough…"

He nodded at his sister's wounds, and smiled. Her cleric was already healing them up.

"But you're pretty tough too. We just have to keep pounding, and we'll win! Hooray for the good guys!"

His sister winced. Morgan looked back at the wound.

"Ouch. Guess they still haven't made healing magic that doesn't sting?"

"Something like that."

"Guess we have to work even harder to make sure you don't get hurt then."

Morgan smiled. She smiled back.

"Yeah. So, I've got some updated campaign books. I think I might have figured out what The Enemy is planning. Some of it, anyway."

"Something nefarious, no doubt. But the best tacticians in Ylisse can handle it. Hooray for the prince and princess!"

"...hooray."

"It's no fun if you don't shout it."

Morgan shook his head and went to work. It wasn't too bad with what he was given. The nefarious enemies of Ylisse had been grabbing parts of the Fire Emblem for the past few months. His brilliant strategies and his sister's shining blade had managed to make them pay at every turn, but they got away with them, and even slipped something away from Mt. Prism. Obviously they were up to no good, but how could anyone stop them? Well, Morgan would try. He might be one of the best, but it was tricky work.

Especially when his sister was looking down and muttering "gods. Gods! Godsgodsgodsgods." It really ruined his tactical concentration.

"Okay. Um, I don't know what you're seeing. But I think I have some plans that might help. You want to try to find a gap in them?"

His sister shook her head, then smiled. Her face looked sicker than usual.

"You know what, Morgan? I have a great idea!"

She sliced the cleric's head off with her axe.

"Let's go outside. Right now."

Morgan's eyes went wide.

"You just sliced someone's head off!"

After a second, he scratched his chin.

"Also, mom says I'm not supposed to go outside. Ever."

His sister's eyes were wide, and Morgan considered the situation again. He didn't think she was insane before, but she did just slice someone's head off with an axe. That wasn't the sort of person you argue with, normally. Even if you did, the argument would probably be about not removing your head instead of wasting everyone's time with comparatively minor details like what times you can go outside.

"But what mom doesn't know won't hurt her!"

"Exactly. So… we should make sure she doesn't know. But she does know. Because I told her. Because we're not going to get in trouble but we have to go right now."

Morgan nodded repeatedly and followed his sister through the halls. Every once in a while, she paused to hack one of the servants to bits, which didn't seem like sane and stable behavior, but it also seemed like a bad thing to bring up in a friendly chat. He'd assumed his sister was scary in a fight, after all Lucy had been too, and he'd never landed a hit on either in sparring, but the practical applications were much messier than he'd wanted to think about. Odd that none of the servants said anything. And that their blood was all… congealed. But Morgan never talked much with them, and maybe that was just what people said about noble and common blood being different. It made sense, with how much fuss everyone made about it.

They came to a tower, and his sister nodded to a hideous creature in a pen.

"Hey Vaida!"

The creature snarled. Morgan looked at its scars. Its fangs. Its eyes, which clearly said the creature wanted to eat him. His sister was smiling again, broader than ever.

"This is Morgan. He's going to ride with me, okay?"

Morgan gulped.

"It wants to eat me."

"Oh, she definitely does. But don't worry. I won't let her. And she's a good girl isn't she? Yes she is yes she is!"

Morgan gulped again.

"Yay for the nice murder monster."

"She's always been there for me. We can trust her."

Unstated: We can't trust anyone else. Morgan brushed past the implication, decided he didn't like it, and forgot about it before the words even left his sister's lips. It would just make him miserable, and it seemed like there was enough of that coming already.

He walked towards the snarling wyvern and buried his fears and doubts in his stomach with the butterflies. This was absurd. So absurd, it might be a dream!

"It's not a dream, Morgan."

"Oh."

Well. Maybe she guessed he thought it was a dream because it was a dream. Yes! That would be fine. It would mean he wasn't getting on the back of a terrifying wyvern and flying into the air over the castle. It meant the outside was just dangerous, not a terrifying burning hellscape. Which, wow. No wonder mom didn't want him to go out if it was like that. Yes. That would make sense, but this was clearly a dream. So it wasn't part of it. If it wasn't a dream, then how could his sister guess what he was thinking?

"Also, you're muttering everything you're thinking again."

"Oh."

Morgan looked down and sighed. It was not a good day. And looking down just made things worse. It was years since he saw the world outside the castle, but he remembered it being much… brighter. Also less on fire, more populated, more forested, and generally not a miserable burning wreck. He didn't know what mother thought, but if he had a vote in Ylisse's future as the only male heir to the throne, he'd push for something more in the old style. It had more bugs in it, too, and bugs were a sign of a healthy and thriving ecosystem.

Morgan looked up again. The world was terrifying. The wyvern was terrifying. His sister… just killed a hallway full of people, but had been in the not-terrifying camp for years of his life. He shouldn't let one bad incident sour a lifetime's worth of trust. Or at least, a lifetime's worth of being less terrified of his sister than he was of various hellbeasts.

"Um, sis?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do we have to go?"

"You wanted to see outside, didn't you? And I'm a good sister! So we're doing a fun family thing that mom was totally planning for years and it's good and fun."

"Then why isn't mom here?"

"...Since you had the game! That was bonding. Special, family style bonding. Which is why we're doing what we're doing without her."

Morgan tilted his head. It wasn't like he would ever DISTRUST his sister, and people had all sorts of reasons to hyperventilate and look around frantically. But the story didn't make much sense. Then again, the story usually didn't make much sense when Morgan talked to his sister, no matter the topic. And she said the same about him. That didn't matter, though. They were family.

"Um, Morgan?"

"Yeah?"

"I might have lied to you. Once. Or twice."

"That's okay."

"Or a lot for years now."

"I burned down your favorite poster when I was playing with Owain and said Lucy did it."

Morgan smiled to cover. Well, on the downside, his sister might kill him. On the up, nothing she had to say would be half as bad.

"I killed Uncle Frederick."

Oh.

That was at LEAST half as bad. Morgan couldn't think of much worse, if he was being honest.

"At least it was an accident?"

His sister broke into a laugh halfway to a sob.

"Accident. People just keep tripping and falling on my axe! That's why mom keeps sending me out there. Hoping maybe I'll learn safe weapon handling."

"Mom wouldn't…"

"She does, Morgan! She killed dad and a bunch of other people. I thought she would have a reason, that we were still doing the right thing, but I can only keep my head so empty! I mean, I'm really good at it, but still."

"And you?"

"Killed a lot of people too. I… Mom was mad. I thought I could… I mean, I wasn't sure. But if I went out and helped her, maybe you could stay out of it. You helped me plan, but you didn't have to see…"

Something caught in her throat before she continued.

"I was...Lucy sent a bunch of people to help evacuate a village. Not even anything important. Mom thought… I think she still sort of trusts me. Trusted me. I do better than the Risen, better than she does. So I took Vaida and a bunch of Risen and we… killed people. They screamed a lot. I tried not to look. Mom had a reason. She had to! And then the knights came to slow us down, and I had to go to the front and make sure they…"

Morgan looked down again. It was the easier alternative.

"Mom had a reason. Mom had a reason."

"And then Uncle Frederick was at the front telling everyone to run. And he did really well! He took out most of my initial attack, and got to me. And dad was right. He was really, really good. I got a few hits in, he got… and then he knocked off my helmet."

"And then he surrendered and you talked and…"

"He just slumped. And he said… he begged."

"Nope. Uncle Frederick would never beg. You killed someone else."

"He did. He begged dad to forgive him for failing, because he couldn't… he couldn't attack one of his charges. And then he looked me in the eyes. And I…"

She wiped her eyes with her free hand and forced a smile.

"You can guess the rest. That's what I do. That's what mom wanted for you."

"She wouldn't do that."

"She was probably going to kill us soon. She's not… she's not mom anymore. And we're really in trouble."

"She wouldn't do that."

"Since, well, Lucy's probably going to try and do something really desperate, and when it works…"

"When?"

"Come on. She's our sister, and we haven't stopped her. You know nobody else could. Well, maybe mom. If she was still mom. When it works, mom's going to blame us. And we really don't want to be there to be blamed."

"I trust mom. It would be okay."

Morgan tried to sound like he believed it. It wasn't easy. It wasn't easy to believe anything right now. The world was insane. His sister was insane. And the one anchor he'd had was stuck at the bottom of the sea with its line cut. He couldn't even be sure about mom.

"No. It won't be. If it was just me, I'd… I'd trust mom too. But I'm not going to lose you, little brother."

Her hand slipped back and ruffled his hair. Morgan squirmed.

"Older."

"By, like, five…"

"I'm still your older brother. You could have told me. I could have done something."

"What?"

"Something. I'm… good at tactics."

Not much good at anything else. Not able to help his family stay together. Not good enough to know he was helping his sister murder his favorite uncle, the grumpy old knight who'd taught them both how to ride, who'd do anything for them. And even his sister thought he was a dumb kid who needed to be kept in the dark.

"Maybe better than I am. I know."

"And you can trust me."

"I thought I could trust a lot of people. And a lot of people thought they could trust mom. They thought they could trust me. Pretty funny!"

Morgan didn't have anything to say. A few seconds later, neither did his sister. They kept the state for the remainder of the flight. The burning cities fell away to mountains. The mountains fell to an old temple. And Vaida came down to the ground, snorting and bucking.

Morgan's sister jumped off her Wyvern and smiled.

"Good girl. Good girl. Now, don't eat Morgan… good girl!"

Morgan stumbled to the ground.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere old."

His sister was shivering. Morgan had never seen her this… out of sorts. Even with half a dozen arrows sticking out of her arm, she tried to keep a sunny disposition. Even when she'd been pouring out all the miserable lies she'd lived through for the past years, she'd managed a corner of a smile. Right now, she looked like the universe was a bad bargain, and life was a worse one. Even if it was true, it'd be uncharacteristic.

And with her here, it felt insane! Morgan shook his head. Sure, there was a nagging pull at the back of his brain that something was off here, but it was buried under waves of joy. The place might be a beaten up old ruin, but it smelled like the first day of spring. It was a long time since he felt this good. He turned to his sister and helped her to her feet.

"What's wrong?"

"Lots. Maybe everything. Um, Morg? If this goes..., I'm sorry."

"Goes? We're here already!"

Morgan smiled.

"I think I see the plan. We'll hide out here, just you and me. Lucy'll win the war, and then we'll meet back up with mom in prison and help her stop… being bad."

"Yeah. That wasn't the plan."

"Then you came up with a really good backup plan."

"No. I'm pretty sure I only got us killed faster. Look, when mom's armies follow us here… let me know if you want me to make it quick. Because she won't."

Morgan was silent. He tried to come up with something reassuring to say, or at least something to process the ideas in front of him. It didn't go very well.

It was a relief when the ghost of a dragon burst into the world in front of them.

"Children of Grima!"

It was less of a relief when his sister crashed to her knees in what looked to be a lot of pain, but it was still better than just… thinking about bad things. Morgan had never been much good at that. Or much of a fan. Thinking and depression were both firmly in the 'for other people' camp. Here, he could do something.

"Hey!"

Yelling at a glowing dragon was doing something, right? It worked when Nah was chewing on something, at least, before she went away.

... Went away seemed a lot more sinister in the current context, come to think of it.

Distraction! The important thing to focus was… being a distraction. Not being the thing that was distracted.

Morgan waved his hands at the creature. She tilted her head in response.

And his sister coughed from the ground.

"Hi Naga. Morgan, this is Naga. And she was the backup plan."

"We weren't supposed to mention the N-A-G-A word…"

"We weren't supposed to do a lot of things. Calling her by name is really low *ow* on the list of things we shouldn't be doing if we want mom to be happy with us."

Morgan turned back to the dragon.

"Hi Naga?"

The dragon looked past him and sighed.

"Child of Grima, you pursued my servants to their deaths. You slaughtered innocents and children, burned their homes. You even took arms against your own kin, the bloodline destined to protect the world from those who would harm it. And now you intrude into one of the last sanctuaries. You drained the world of all hope. Was that not enough? Do you share your mother's insatiable appetite?"

On the ground, Morgan's sister coughed and smiled.

"Past all rational hope."

"The same thing."

"Not really. Irrational hope is a family stock in trade! And I think the Exalt saved the best for last."

"And what hope could there be, with the Gemstones gone, my presence a fraction of what she needs, and Grima gaining in strength by the second?"

"Well, you could go back before Grima started stomping around. I mean, it's something I thought was impossible, but none of us have possible going well. So! I want in."

"And why should I trust a girl who betrayed everything?"

Morgan looked at his sister. She looked back at him.

"Not everything. Not yet. And you really could use my help with what's coming. Uh, Morgan? You might want to go a little further in. This is going to be long and boring, and you don't want to hear it."

Morgan nodded and wandered deeper in, past statues of heroes and dragons, murals of battles long gone, and countless doors to gods-only-knew-where. He was an obedient brother.

Then he doubled back to listen in. Obedient, maybe. But also forgetful and very, very curious. It was hard to pick anything up from their muffled talks without making it obvious he was listening in, but he picked up a few bits and pieces. The echoes ruled out even finding out who said what, but it wasn't the details that mattered. Just knowing something secret was enough. Dad taught him that. Then Lucy. And now, well, even if his remaining sister wanted to she'd be hard pressed to break the habit or make him forget the lesson.

"No. I'm… it wouldn't be worth it. Just send him."

"Of course, I understand the risks, but…"

"No. No, he shouldn't…*mumble mumble* memories *mumble mumble* guilt"

Morgan was lost before long. Even when he could believe what his sister told Naga in the first place, he couldn't understand it. Best to smile, nod, and go along with it. It worked so far, more or less. After a few more minutes, and a few more mumbled conversations mostly about high level strategy to the effect of "We are not doing well", he saw his sister walk out of the room to greet him. He straightened up and started looking very intently at a painting.

"Hey big brother. How much did you hear?"

"What? I was just admiring this… painting of… Anri. Bathing."

Morgan blushed. His sister snorted.

"Of course you were. So, the important thing was… I need to wait a bit. You know. To make sure everyone else can get here safely. You should go on without me."

"Sis…"

"Nope! No worrying! Naga said so. No sense worrying about me. You just run through the glowy portal at the end of the hall, and I'll be… right with you."

Morgan wasn't much good at spotting a lie. He didn't need to be.

"I'll… go then. You just come soon."

"Of course. Right away! I'll meet up with you and Lucy in no time. Happy family again!"

Morgan turned away and started walking.

"Even if… even if you did some bad things, you're still the best little sister I could have. I won't forget you."

His sister turned the other way and waited until he was gone. Then she sighed.

"You will."

After a second, she shrugged.

"But it's a nice thought."

* * *

><p><strong>(Author's notes: And we're back on track. Bare minimum, length is up, and I like to think the quality's better than last time. Character interactions tend to help with that, in my experience.<strong>

**Anyway, on to the individual story notes**

**Severa: I know it's been said before, but Cordelia marrying the Avatar seems like it would amplify Severa's inferiority complex something fierce. A perfect mom and, say, Stahl for a dad, then Severa could safely dismiss perfection as an impossible standard, bond with her more 'normal' parent, and have a small buffer against her issues. Robin? Her parents would be perpetually discussing genius stuff, her sister would be obnoxiously likable, and in general she'd have no refuge against the nagging voice telling her she wasn't good enough. And if they were all gone, then she would lose the last connection to them as people rather than as abstract icons. What I'm getting at is that Severa's a jerk, sure. But she seems like she takes it out on herself at least as much as on everyone else. **

**Nothing like intense self loathing to make for entertainment, that's what I always say.**

**Yarne: Probably the weak link of the set, if I'm being honest. I liked some parts, and I think Frederick and Yarne make for a good father and son set, but Yarne can be pretty one note, and I don't think I did much to prevent that from becoming an issue. C'est la vie.**

**Morgan: This was the long one. Wanted to do something with both Morgans that didn't just go for the standard beats, and I like to think I managed it. The thing that stood out to me comparing the supports was how much, well, smarter Girl Morgan was. I mean, they're both airheaded optimists, but girl Morgan had a mind like quicksilver, and boy Morgan... didn't. Figured that could be a decent dynamic, and things kinda went on from there.**

**So, that's the set. Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading, etc. And hey, with this, there's at least one story in the set for every second generation character.)**


	6. You can't go home again

A man and a woman laid on the ground in a forest. The man wore a black robe, the woman blue armor. Neither opened their eyes.

Time passed. The man groaned. The woman remained immobile, save for ragged breathing. More time passed. Men approached the pair on the ground and shook them awake. Men without robes or armor, without sign of allegiance or trade beyond several very large axes. Each.

"Hey! You!"

The man opened his eyes. The woman shook herself to her feet. One of the bandits moved an axe towards the man's neck.

"Yeah, you. In the robe. Your lady looks like a lordling. Not a bad ransom. Wouldn't want to scratch her, cut into the payout. Of course, I doubt they'd pay much extra for a jumped up courtier. So, you tell me who'd be best to ask for the money, or she'll be sobbing over your corpse pretty soon."

The woman pulled a sword.

"It's a fair wager there would be more than one corpse."

The man in the robe stepped back.

"I think we all need to calm down. This is just a misunderstanding. This is my wife, Lucina. My name is Robin, and we're just trying to find an inn."

"Robin, you said?"

"Yes?"

"You wouldn't happen to be a tactician, would you?"

Robin raised his hands.

"I try, at least."

"Oh. Then that's different."

The head bandit turned to his men.

"Kill them. Now."

* * *

><p><strong>TWO DAYS EARLIER<strong>

Robin sat in the chair of honor at the Castle Ylisse banquet table and tried to keep down a rash of vomit.

It was good to be among friends again. It was good to have a massive banquet. It was, to cut to the point, good to be alive.

It was good enough to be alive that he tried something Sully prepared, just to be polite. After that, staying dead became much more appealing.

"To the noblest man I ever had the pleasure of calling a friend!"

"CHEERS!"

"To the little sprog who cheated the old reaper more times than I can count."

"CHEERS!"

"To my #1 customer!"

"Cheers!

The constant toasts didn't help matters. Good mead killed some of the agony on the tongue, but it didn't help the stomach. And refusing them would be rude.

He wished he'd eaten a little more before coming back to the castle and the closest thing he had to home. Barring that, he wished he was outside in the latrines, where he could empty his guts in peace.

If nothing else, he wished the toasts would stop.

"To the best dad in the entire world!"

Well, most of the toasts. He made an exception for two people. Morgan was one.

In the shadows, Lucina nodded at him, smiled, and tipped her glass.

She was the other. And a very good reminder that, no matter what else happened, he was the luckiest man in the world. He smiled back. When he turned back to the table, Chrom was looking at him.

Robin gulped. Okay, yes, he was, well, married to her. But she was Chrom's daugher, and Robin was planning to do things with her a married man will do with his wife after an extended leave of absence. With enthusiasm.

A father could take offense.

But Chrom nodded instead.

"I know all of you want to congratulate our beloved tactician personally, but it's getting late. And there's someone with more claim on his time than the rest of us put together. So, uh, thank you all."

Robin knew someone would want a speech. On the other hand, someone else would give a speech if he didn't, and they'd be much less likely to make a mess on the floor in the middle of it. He dashed up the stairs for his room, two at a time, and relieved himself into a bucket. When he looked at it, it was empty again.

A note on the side mentioned Anna deliveries. He'd have to thank her later.

Lucina came into the room a minute after. Robin shoved the bucket aside.

"I said I'd find a way back, didn't I?"

"I'm sorry I doubted you."

"To be honest, I would have doubted me too. I'm glad you stayed around. You only promised until death. I couldn't expect more."

She smiled.

It was, despite everything, a wonderful night.

Robin fell into sleep with a smile on his face. Then dreams came. They were less pleasant.

It started with a feast, just like the night that lead to it. But the guests were different. People he couldn't recognize mixed with heroes of legend. All talking, laughing, treating him as one of their own. His mind couldn't match them to his life, but something deeper put them as old friends. He laughed. Smiled. Listened to stories.

Then it all vanished. And he was alone in a graveyard. He'd seen this, or one close enough to be its twin, in a thousand nightmares before. But this was different. The old graveyard had names he recognized. Chrom. Sully. Frederick. Lucina. Then Grima rose, everything burned, and so on. Here, he didn't recognize a name. Until he found his own grave.

It was a relief more than anything. A familiar name. A reason to be sure Grima wouldn't return. Then he looked lower.

The dates were right enough. But the epitaph mentioned, well, it was wrong. He couldn't remember any of it. For good or ill.

But it felt like the truth. And it felt like a betrayal. He'd failed everyone, and not even done them the courtesy of remembering the failure. He'd even betrayed himself, forgotten everything he stood for. If he'd made the choice on his own, it might have been a fair trade. (No. Trading the world for Chrom and Lucina would have been a bargain.) But here, he failed without even trying.

Angry ghosts emerged from the tombs, of course. But they couldn't do anything to him that his guilt couldn't match. Robin woke up with a sick feeling in his stomach.

Lucina noticed.

"What's wrong?"

"Lucina, in your time… did I ever talk about what my life was like? Before the Shepherds, I mean."

Lucina bit her lip.

"He never talked about his past that I can remember. Not that I knew him very well."

"Of course I didn't. That would make things too easy."

"You can't blame yourself for someone else's actions. I never knew him, but I know you. You aren't him. You proved that to anyone's satisfaction."

"That isn't the issue. No matter what else I am, I'm still me. And that means I'm missing decades of my life. Aversa didn't know anything past my early childhood, and no-one even remembers what I did between then and finding Chrom."

"Does it matter?"

"Maybe. Probably. I must have left friends behind. Or enemies. People with no idea what happened. I didn't mean to betray them, but I did it all the same."

"You can't know that! "

"I do. Remember the outrealms? One of the einherjar recognized me. Not even "you remind me of". She knew my name."

"It… isn't the MOST common in Ylisse."

"And I recognized her. Like Morgan remembered you. I can't just abandon that. People may need me."

"Of course they do."

"I'm sorry. You come first. Always. But once we've done what needs to be done, I have to set this right. I can't ask anything from you, but I can't forget this either."

He smiled.

"Well, I can't forget it _again_."

Lucina shook her head.

"Because you're still the man I married."

"Thank you?"

"And that means I can't very well leave you to struggle alone. You gave your life for me. I think that spending a few days in the outrealm helping you find a few old friends is a fair trade."

"Thank you. It's more than I can ask."

"Would Morgan be alright if we left today?"

"What? I mean, yes, I think so. She hasn't spent much time in Castle Ylisse, and she's enjoying the library."

"I should rephrase it, shouldn't I? Will everyone else be alright if we leave Morgan with them?"

"Maybe. I don't think she could destroy the _whole _kingdom in less than a week."

"Then it's settled. I'll pack our supplies. You can say your goodbyes to father and Morgan. We can be halfway to the gate before nightfall."

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

Robin paused.

"No. I do. Which makes you matter even more."

Lucina was as good as her word. They were gone from the castle in almost no time, even counting the time reminding Morgan that great uncle Henry was not to be listened to under any circumstances short of the apocalypse (and probably not even then.) In less than two days, they were at the outrealm gate.

Robin approached the entrance.

"Anna? I have something to find in the outrealms."

"That's great. Everyone should have a goal in life."

"I need to go through the gate to do that."

"I can understand that, handsome, but no-one gets anything for free. If they did, I'd be out of business."

"Your sister let me through without paying."

"Was the fate of the world on the line?"

"Yes?"

"Well, it isn't now. Sorry, but you can't get by on looks, either."

Robin sighed and reached for a bag of gold.

"You know I only had the budget I did before because I was managing funds for a whole army?"

"Well, that's why you get a frequent customer discount. 5,000 gold."

"You don't even know where I want to go!"

Anna smiled almost as wide as Morgan's standard.

"You want to go to Lycia, right? Home of the legendary Roy, Lyn, Eliwood, and Hector?"

"How did you even know that? I didn't know that two days ago."

"We pride ourselves on customer satisfaction."

Robin reached for a large bar of gold.

"Just to be clear, this is highway robbery."

"No, you're thinking of our upcoming mobile service. We'll bring the massive price gouging right to your horse, wyvern, or pegasus!"

"What?"

"Just a little joke. Thank you for shopping with Anna Sisters Limited. Service with a smile! Also, by proceeding through the outrealm gate, you agree to absolve Anna, Anna, and any other Annas of all legal, social, and moral liability. Please distort time and space to the dissolution of all objective reality responsibly."

Lucina and Robin stared with their mouths open.

"Hint. That's your cue to walk through the gate."

Lucina closed her mouth.

"Right. Of course. I'm sorry for being rude."

"We both are. Thank you. Although I'd be a lot more grateful if you had halfway reasonable rates."

"Sorry. Couldn't stay in business if I did! Good luck!"

The couple entered infinity. And fell.

* * *

><p><strong>NOW<strong>

Lucina wiped blood off Falchion.

Robin patched his tactical manual with paper and quill from his pack. Keeping a magical tome in perfect order was bad enough in peacetime, and the time after a battle was worse. But the reduced kit to carry made it worth his while.

"Well. That could have gone better."

The bandits that weren't dead were gone, fear propelling broken and bleeding limbs to heights they couldn't sustain. If they were lucky, they might live. If they were smart, none of them would pick up an axe again as long as they lived. Robin and Lucina were nicked and battered, but none of the injuries would even scar.

"Is this how you always wake up?"

"No. Pretty much every time before now, I've been lucky. Kind, well connected strangers. No axes in my face."

"The first time I found myself in a new world, I was pursued by armies of risen. It was worse than this."

Robin smiled.

"So, we met in the middle."

"What?"

"I mean I'm used to kindly royalty, and you're… you know what? It's not worth the explanation."

"Oh. We should try to find a town, shouldn't we?"

Robin nodded.

"My woodsmanship's never been as good as I'd like, but I think the dirt paths here look more or less like roads. We should find a town if we head north in a few days at most."

"That sounds reasonable. And I don't think we'll have to worry much about bandits for the rest of the trip."

Lucina smiled and slid Falchion back into its sheath.

It was half a day's walk before they saw any signs of civilization beyond isolated huts, and longer before they reached a town, but the forest had berry and bear enough for two, if they weren't picky and knew how to hunt. The town was small, but walled and guarded. Robin thought it would have been a sign of bandits in the area, if he didn't already have the better sign of a dozen of them trying to kill him. He shot a bolt of lightning in the air from a tome, after angling it to not point out his exact location. Best to check how twitchy the locals were before walking up to the gate, especially late at night.

One arrow shot for the bolt, but the lack of followup said it was just a paranoid recruit, not a full attack.

"Present yourself, in the name of Lord Eliwood, marquis of the realm!"

The main path to the gate was illuminated by flickering torches. Robin could almost make out five small archery towers. Well, Eliwood was a good man according to the legends, and his instincts said to trust him. Besides, they didn't like the local bandits. Which meant there was a chance they didn't hate him.

Robin prepared to step forward when Lucina grabbed his arm and shook her head.

"You're less armored, and people might know you already. It's safer if I take the risks."

Robin didn't argue. It was pointless when Lucina decided on something.

"Just be careful. For me, if nothing else."

"I'll try."

She walked into the light.

"Two travelers seeking lodging."

"Then let's see both of you."

Robin stepped forward.

"Alright, both of you. Now no sudden...WOOF!"

A woman's voice came down from the tower.

"It can't be!"

In the shadows, Robin could almost see someone clambering down a tower.

"Hold fire! Hold fire!"

Before the tactician could process the events, a green haired young woman was in the light and closing distance fast. She was carrying a bow on her back, and looked to know how to use it. Robin knew a professional soldier when he saw one, and she qualified. She also seemed to know him.

"Robin! It is you! You know how long it's been?"

"More than three years?"

"You know that Bern and Etruria have been tearing up half the continent looking for you? And you know how Eliwood gets about it."

"Yes. That Eliwood. Hahaha?"

"You're just laughing it off?"

Robin looked around. He'd assumed that this was just a life or death situation. Things were much worse than that already.

"No? I'd never laugh about something like that."

"You just left us for three years. And now you're back like you never did?"

"Well, a lot happened."

"A lot happened? That's all you have to say?"

The woman was on the verge of tears. And her fist was tensing up, which did not bode well.

Lucina looked towards Robin.

"I trust you. Implicitly. But I still have... questions."

"If it makes you feel any better, so do I. I'm sorry. I've had some difficulties."

Robin sighed.

"You wouldn't believe half of it if I told you."

Her fist tensed.

"Try me."

"Well, I had amnesia. And that's the most believable thing that happened to me. I can't even remember your face. Or your name."

She blinked.

"Not you too!"

"Uh, yeah. Me too."

"Rebecca. I'm Rebecca. You were our tactician."

"I guessed that much. You know me already, so I should introduce Lucina to be fair. This is my wife, Lucina. The fellest blade, the most honest lord, and the most beautiful woman I've ever met."

"Lord? She's… should I courtsey?"

Lucina shook her head and blushed.

"No. An accident of birth could never elevate one person over another. I'm sure your archery talents are just as worthy of praise."

Rebecca blushed back.

"Well, Lord Eliwood thought it was good enough to teach these NUMBSKULLS how to protect against some bandits. I've done okay. BUT I WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER OFF TEACHING A GOAT, BECAUSE MAYBE IT COULD TAKE SOME BASIC DIRECTIONS, ANDREWS!"

"Bandits?"

"Had a few. Wish we could be done with the lot of them. Got things to do back at the castle, but..."

Rebecca shrugged.

Lucina spoke.

" There were about a dozen of them? Armed with axes?"

"Don't know the numbers. Maybe that many?"

Robin coughed.

"We might have solved your problem. We buried the bodies, but if you needed proof, I think the gods would forgive us a little desecration of the dead if we had to to put your people at ease."

"You and one swordswoman?"

"I said Lucina was the best fighter I've met."

"Well, Lyn said you helped her do the same thing when you first met her. With fewer bandit, of course."

"Lyn! I need to see her. Where is she?"

"Wow. You really did forget everything. I guess you did miss the wedding!"

"Wedding?"

"To Lord Eliwood, of course! You said you'd name their first child. They'll want to see you. If the bandits are as dead as you said, these COMPLETE INCOMPETENTS should do alright without us. And, well, if you're married, without telling any of us, to some foreign royal? Well, they'll want to yell at you. It wouldn't be fair to keep it to myself."

"Which means?"

"We're leaving in the morning. I can pack our supplies, and hunt for most of our food, so we can travel light."

"And for the night?"

"You can sleep in the guard barracks. It's nothing special, but it beats staying out under the stars."

Lucina shrugged.

"If the stars are always this beautiful, I'm not sorry to spend a few more nights with them."

Robin shrugged at Rebecca in reply.

"She had a rough childhood."

"Like Nino? Poor kid…"

"Probably worse."

Rebecca whistled.

The barracks were about what was advertised. A roof, beds, and bedding that all more or less could be identified from that description. No rats or other vermin brave enough to show their faces. Beyond that, there was nothing worth remembering. The Shepherds weren't, for the most part, the most domestic minded of people, but they still had higher standards for their bunks if they were staying indoors.

"Sorry we don't have bunks big enough for two people, lovebirds. You alright with that?"

"We're just grateful for the room. Thank you."

"Don't worry about it."

Robin fell asleep before his head hit the pillow. And he dreamed.

_Eyes opening. A woman. Or a girl. No older than nineteen, and probably south of that. Bruises. Strange tent._

_The glowing gate wasn't that bad an idea, then. A beautiful girl about his age, no assassins, and not a grain of Plegian sand. Robin smiled. Didn't think he would be safe for long, but it was a step ahead of the ruins of his childhood._

"_I found you unconscious on the plains. I am Lyn, of the Lorca tribe. You're safe now. Who are you? Can you remember your name?"_

"_Robin. Just Robin."_

"_What an odd sounding name."_

_He winced._

"_But pay me no mind. It is a good one. What brings you to the Sacae plains?"_

"_A very long story. And not a pleasant one."_

_A noise outside. Swords? Axes?_

_Lyn heard it. She nodded. Stepped outside._

"_Bandits! They must be planning to raid the local villages. I… I have to stop them. You should stay here. You'll be safe."_

"_I can help."_

_Before he even thought about it. Noblesse oblige, then. Or whatever insane sense of it was left for the supposed avatar of a mad god._

"_You're a swordsman?"_

"_No. Strategist."_

"_An odd profession, but…"_

"_Not odd where I'm from. A good strategist is the difference between a mountain of the dead and a clean victory. And I've always had a gift."_

_Gift. One way to say it. His birthright, or the first downpayment on it. At a glance he could see two men draw blades, and know which would live and which would die. Tell lovers from the looks in their eyes. See how close a man was to the reaper's embrace without spending more than a second in his presence. _

_Father was so happy. Then Mother told Robin why father was so happy. Why they had to run. _

_So much for his gift. _

"_Very well. We'll go together!"_

"_You won't regret this."_

"_I'll protect you, so stay close to me."_

_Then battle. Real fighting, the flow of blood. The girl from the plains was a natural. A few nudges, a little coaching, and she killed men with years of experience._

_When the fighting ended, Lyn shook._

"_Sorry if I worried you. I'll need to be stronger if I'm going to survive... Strong enough that no one can defeat me."_

_Robin tried to smile._

"_Don't worry. Life or death, success or failure? It's already written."_

_The next day, he woke in Lyn's tent. _

"_That last fight must have taken more out of you than I thought!"_

_Robin smiled._

"_Yeah, I guess so."_

_Lyn paused._

"_I want to talk to you about something. You have some experience in the ways of war, I can see. Would you allow me to travel with you?"_

"_Well, I don't know where I'm going, for how long, or what the risks are. I wouldn't want to take you away from people who care about you without at least getting the decision approved. Who would I…?"_

"_What? You... want me to get permission from my parents?"_

"_I didn't say that. But if you think they need to know, then yes."_

"_My mother and my father... died six months ago. My people—the Lorca—they don't... I'm the last of my tribe. Bandits attacked, and... they killed so many people. The tribe was shattered. My father was our chieftain, and I tried to protect our people. But I'm so young, and our people were old-fashioned. They wouldn't follow a woman. No one would follow me. I'm sorry. I've been alone for so long... No. No more. I will shed no more tears."_

_Robin blinked._

"_I'm sorry. I didn't know."_

"_I'm jealous, Robin. You must have family still."_

"_My mother's dead and my father would be better off that way. I haven't seen my home country in more than a year, and I don't think I can ever go back."_

"_Oh."_

_Robin covered the silence._

"_So, I suppose we're a matched set! I'd be honored to travel with you."_

"_You will? That's just wonderful! Thank you! Oh, thank you! We'll be better off working together, I know it. You'll be my master strategist, and I'll be your peerless warrior! We can do it! Right?"_

"_How could I turn a peerless warrior down? I've seen what happened to the last people who argued with you."_

_Lyn blushed. Robin blushed. Life was looking up._

_Then everything died._

Robin woke up in a sweat.

"Lyn of the Lorca. How did I forget?"

Lucina turned to him.

"Hmm?"

"I dreamed of here. I mean, I remembered something. My first days here. Lyn. Bandits. Running and hiding while others fought for me."

"Are you sure? I can't imagine you leaving others to fight your battles for you."

Robin half smiled.

"No man is born a warrior, Lucina. We learn to fight to defend others. And it's mostly failure when you start."

"My dashing husband, a failure?"

"Laugh all you like. Most of us weren't trained from the cradle."

"I wasn't trained… is that a joke?"

"More or less."

Lucina laughed.

"It's very funny?"

"It's… always nice to see you smile. You can't blame me for trying to see it more often."

"I never would."

Rebecca stepped into the room and rolled her eyes.

"I thought Lyn and Eliwood were lovey dovey."

Robin turned red.

"I thought you were gathering supplies."

He'd forgotten all about her. But the cover story was much more polite, and came just as easy.

"We're ready to go when you two are. If you don't get lost in each other's eyes, I think we should be moving pretty soon."

"Errr, right. Sorry."

"We're almost ready to go now."

"Great. We have some horses for all of us to ride, courtesy of the local villagers, but they're not combat trained. Just a few years ago, we'd probably lose them to bandits. But Hector, err Marquis Ostia, made sure that people know the roads are protected. Now any bandits stick to the deep woods."

They rode for days without much of interest. Even if bandits had been on the roads, they would have been careful about a procession bearing royal crests and armor. And the nights were too tired for dreams with any detail. They stuck to vague guilt, which Robin had lived with too long to even notice.

They reached Castle Pharae on the fifth day. Rebecca nodded to Robin.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?"

"The castle?"

"Never felt so far from being a proper lady as I did when I carried my bow and my armor into that fancy dinner. But you and Lord Eliwood made me feel right at home."

"I did?"

"And all the time after, cooking the deer I brought down in the woods outside, and you joked about how you wanted bear instead? So Hector walked out of the hall, and came back with a live bear on a leash? And then Lord Eliwood just didn't say anything for almost ten minutes?"

Rebecca laughed. Robin slowly joined in. Then he shook his head.

"I wish I did. It sounds amazing."

"Well, Lord Eliwood will just be glad to see you again, memories or not. And Lyn? I haven't seen her quite as much much, but every time I've talked about you, she's said how much you meant to her."

Lucina coughed.

"I'm sure she did."

Robin began to sweat.

"I don't, I mean… oh gods. She's the first woman outside of my family who saw me naked."

"I didn't need to know that."

"I didn't either! It came up on its own!"

Rebecca shook her head.

"None of us did. Let's try to forget it before we see her."

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

Rebecca walked closer to the guard towers.

"Rebecca of Pharae returning to speak to Lord Eliwood."

"Ah, Rebecca. A vision of loveliness even now. Your very breath draws me more than perfume. Your voice makes birdsong much the lesser by the comparison! If there could be a portrait that captures your magnificence, how could the painter live with himself knowing that he would never again match his work?"

"_Sain_."

"Sorry. But how could I resist? There is nothing that could distract me from such a perfect model of the feminine form."

"Except any other woman who passes your way."

"You wound me! By the way, Rebecca, who is the woman in blue with you? I may wish to make her acquaintance in the future."

"She's Robin's wife. And, as always, you're a pig."

"Ha! Your tongue is as sharp as ever. And your jests as merry! For I can almost imagine you mentioned a long lost friend and companion in an attempt to dissuade me from talking to a woman."

"Hello, Sain."

"Robin! That is, I mean, how long has it been?"

"Years."

"And that, I see you, well, that's…"

"She'd probably stab you, Sain."

"I wouldn't!"

Rebecca shook her head.

"You would. Anyone in their right mind would."

"And yet, you haven't! More proof of your unequaled magnanimity."

Rebecca looked at Robin.

"This has to bring back memories."

"No. And is he always like this?"

"Sometimes he's worse. IT ALMOST MAKES ME WONDER WHY I MARRIED HIM!"

"You… and him? You married him. You… this didn't happen while I was here, did it?"

"No. Just last year. In A FIT OF TEMPORARY INSANITY!"

Robin winced.

"Sounds like the foundations for a happy relationship."

"It has its ups and its downs."

"And I knew Sain."

"Sadly. He had some stories about you. They don't do either of you any favors. He says you go way back."

"Knowing my luck, I can believe it."

The drawbridge lowered and Robin trudged inside. Sain met him inside, a knight in green with a broad smile.

"Robin! It's been too long. How long has it been since we last saw the taverns and tickled the fancy of many a fair maid?"

Robin and Lucina responded in unison.

"Nowhere near long enough."

"Funny. That's what you said last time."

Lucina smiled.

"Some things, it seems, never change."

"Ah, always practical minded. A shame. Lady Lyndis and Lord Eliwood will be returning shortly, and… no one has informed them that you've returned."

"Not yet. I haven't seen anyone other than Rebecca from the old… gang."

"Well, you haven't seen the sights! In the benevolent reign of Lord Eliwood and the lovely Lady Lyn, peace and prosperity have blossomed. And the peasantry knows how to honor its heroes."

"I'm married, Sain. My wife is in this room. Right now. Listening to us. Even if I wanted to be part of whatever inane attempt to recapture the old times you were planning on, she would know, and probably kill me. I think I asked her to in my wedding vows."

Lucina winced.

"You mean 'If I ever act like Inigo, run me through'?"

"It was funnier before… well, what's past is past. I'm sorry I reminded you of it. The important thing is that I'm not here to go to taverns. Even if I remembered where the good ones were."

"A few drinks would jog your memory. As for marriage?"

Sain leaned in conspiratorially.

"I only flirt with other women to rile Rebecca. No one else in the world comes close. A little argument now and again adds spark."

"Or all the time."

"Or all the time. What's life without a little risk?"

"Much longer."

Sain frowned.

"You had a better joke last time I asked. Are you slipping?"

Rebecca slapped her head.

"Sain, he doesn't remember anything."

"What?"

Robin shrugged.

"I can remember Lyn, and everything for the past three years or so. Before that, blank. In between, blank. I was hoping that she could fill in some of the details."

"Amnesia? Really? I haven't heard a story that unlikely since the last time I spent time with a comely maiden."

Rebecca laughed.

"What was it? I think there was a dragon god, a plague of the undead, and time travel?"

Lucina and Robin winced in tandem.

"You know, I think I'll leave the details of the last three years for some other time."

"A shame. But the hour is late anyway. Well, it would be best if our guests were to take their lodgings."

Robin nodded.

"Is there a room for the night?"

"Would you believe they kept your room a perfect museum to your time here?"

"No."

"Good, because they didn't. And you didn't even have a room here. I think you slept in the stables. But we can't leave you there, because Sain needs it."

"Horseman?"

"His HORSE has better manners."

"You wound me, milady!"

Rebecca shook her head.

"So, the stable is out. Fortunately, we have servants quarters."

"That sounds more than adequate. Thank you."

Rebecca winked.

"Or we have lodgings for foreign royalty. Didn't you say something about a lord? Never heard of a duchy with a Lucina in charge, but I'm not the most traveled. Would be a real shame, having royalty here and not treating them right."

Lucina shook her head.

"The servant's lodgings are fine."

"For a lord?"

"My father is Exalt. I'm not even…"

Rebecca's eyes sparkled.

"A princess? Beg your pardon, ma'am! I've never even talked to a proper princess."

Robin leaned closer to Lucina.

"I don't think we're going to talk her out of this. Just smile and nod."

"It's an honor, of course, but…"

"Smile. Nod."

Lucina smiled. Then nodded.

"Thank you."

"No, thank _you_. A princess! Our Robin married a princess."

Sain nodded and winked in Robin's direction.

"All learned at the feet of the master, of course."

Robin smiled.

"Apparently, I learned everything I shouldn't do. Thank you."

Robin and Lucina followed the winding paths to the guest chambers. And Robin fell asleep again.

_Another castle, much like this one. With an inconvenient corpse in armor on a throne. A sword, a holy relic, jutted out of the man's chest. Robin turned to Sain._

"_I think we won."_

_Lyn was gone, reunited with her grandfather. Even Sain had the tact to realize she'd need to be alone with her last living family. The company drifted to separate corners of the castle and surrounding battlements. Robin was left with Sain._

"_And without even a kiss from Lyn to celebrate our victory. Some days, I wonder if it was all worth it."_

_Robin rammed Sain in the ribs with his elbow. Sain didn't notice. Robin's elbow did. Noodly tactician arms were not built to take an impact with a knight's armor. _

"_You'll just have to be content with the safety of your country, your reputation with your sworn lord, a comfortable position for the rest of your life…"_

"_Ha!"_

_Robin shook his head._

"_I had you wrong. I'll admit it. Head full of knightly fantasies, eyes full of any woman you passed? I thought you were going to hold us back, or run at the first real trouble."_

"_You never said that."_

"_Because Lyn and Kent trusted you, and I trusted them. They were right."_

"_I could have told you that."_

"_And I should have listened. Heh. A dozen soldiers, a few noncombatants, and still we triumphed."_

"_Thanks to the finest mind working for Pharae, and her most heroic cavalier."_

"_Well, thanks to the outcome of prearranged historical… you know what? Gods below, I think I'll take the credit for this one. For all of us. Destiny may have helped, but it was our bonds that won the day. Well, bonds and talent. I'll give you that we were better than most of the rabble."_

"_It's a question of motive. Coin or the heart of a beautiful woman? One inspires the spirit to valor. The other…"_

"_Puts bread on the table. But I see what you mean. We had a leader to inspire and a cause to fight for. Morale's a cornerstone of warfare. And on that note, Sain, I'm about to do something I'll regret."_

"_What, oh tactical genius?"_

"_You're dismissed. Everything that needs doing has someone to do it. Meanwhile, no-one is in the surrounding village telling them that all is well. Letting them know the fighting is over."_

"_Enjoying the company of relieved farmgirls?"_

"_Now you know why I regret telling you."_

"_Say no more!"_

_Sain charged out the door and mounted his horse. _

_Robin cleared his throat._

"_If you want to talk to me, we're alone now. If you want to assassinate me, it seems a little late._

_A small boy with green hair emerged from the shadows. _

"_Oh. Nils. Where's your sister?"_

_And why did they always give him the creeps? They were good kids. Everyone else liked them._

"_That's not important right now."_

_Okay. Off on the wrong foot. _

"_I'm sorry if it seems like I want to cause trouble. I don't. We all care about both of you, and I'm sure Lyn would let you stay…"_

"_It's not what you want. It's what you are."_

_Crap_.

"_Not while I have a choice about it."_

"_Oh. It's just… it's been so long since we met, um, anyone else like us."_

"_Anyone else pursued by death cults for mysterious evil?"_

_Nils shook his head._

"_No. Um, something else. You know."_

"_The reasons why?"_

_Nils nodded._

"_That."_

_Creepy. Definitely creepy. But that was to be expected with what the kid was hinting at. Raised by mad cults, born for some horrible destiny, and doomed to gods only knew what. If Robin didn't have his mother, an anchor on sanity, then he would have ended up with the same issues. Then again, that didn't explain why everyone else had no issue with them._

"_Well, everyone has gifts. Lyn's good with a sword, better than either of us will ever be. Rath's an amazing horseman. Serra can drive anyone insane in half an hour. The source matters less than how you use it."_

"_Do you believe that?"_

"_I'd like to."_

"_Do you think anyone else would believe it? If they knew what we were?"_

_Heralds of the walking apocalypse? Robin had his doubts. _

"_They don't need to know. They let us be people. That's better than we'd get anywhere else."_

_Nils frowned._

"_I agree. It's the only way. We've probably told them too much already."_

_Nils walked away, and Robin felt a chill. Here there be dragons._

_A woman died for his negligence. Worse would come._

Robin woke up. Beautiful wife sleeping next to him. Clean bed. Dream ended. The day was off to a fine start.

Then he looked up. Lyn. Red haired man that had to be Eliwood. Pants… not present. The fine start was over.

"Robin! I can't believe it's you after all these years!"

"Lyn! It's good to see you. Really...good."

"When Sain said you were here, I almost, well…"

"Yes. Sain. I wouldn't have trusted him either without checking for myself."

Robin tried to think of a way to extract himself from the situation without exposing more than anyone would be comfortable with. He looked to Lucina. She was not having any more luck.

"It's been too long. You promised to attend the wedding."

"I did? It slipped my mind. With a lot of other things."

"That's not much of an excuse."

Lyn was smiling. So was Eliwood. Robin pressed on.

"The other things include pretty much everything except my name."

"Sain told me. We're just glad to see you again."

Gods. There wasn't a better option, was there? Well, fortune favored the bold.

"I'm naked from the waist down, and would like to put on some pants without anyone I'm not married to in the room."

"Oh. Oh? Oh! I'm sorry to bother you."

Lyn and Eliwood disappeared out the door and Robin breathed a sigh of relief.

"Lucina, that was Lyn and Eliwood. I think they're old friends."

"They looked pleasant. Do you remember anything about them?"

"I think I owe Lyn my life a half dozen times over. And I was able to help her in exchange. "

"She sounds like a wonderful person. I'd like to know her better."

"So would I."

"And Eliwood?"

"If Lyn trusts him, well, it's not much of a judgement. She trusted me. But I think I know him. Or knew him."

"Father told me a legend once about a knight named Eliwood. The finest man ever to draw a blade his country had seen. If this is that man, then I think we can more than trust him with our lives. And you shouldn't be so harsh with yourself. I know the monster that nearly destroyed the world. And I know you. It's easy to tell the two apart."

"I won't argue with you, then."

Robin stood and stumbled through the motions of his morning routine, and Lucina performed hers. At the end, Robin walked to the door and knocked.

"Lyn?"

He had to step back when the door slammed open.

"You had us worried. Three years."

Eliwood shook his head.

"And married. I thought Hector broke many a maiden's heart when he and Farina were wed. Then Sain. And now you!"

Robin smiled.

"And you married Lyn. We're all getting old.."

"Ah, but I've been… you remember. I don't think there was weeping in the streets at the loss to tavern hall girls."

Robin frowned.

"I can't remember."

"You can't… You can't remember?! I pour my soul out for you, you talk about the most grievous breach of trust between us, and you don't remember?"

Lucina placed her hand on her scabbard.

Robin spoke quickly.

"I can't remember anything beyond a few brief flashes before three years prior. I thought you knew! I'm sorry, Eliwood. I wish I could have been a better man. But I can't take back the past. All I can do is try to make amends."

Eliwood sighed.

"No. The wrong was mine. So, married. How did you meet? I don't recognize her. Did another lord happen on a traveling tactician sleeping in a field?"

"I appear to have made a habit of it. I can't think of a reason to stop."

"And you fell for her more than Lyndis? She's a fine woman, I'm sure, but I can't agree with the decision."

"Well, I met her father when I woke up in the middle of a grassy field."

"_Ah_."

Robin almost corrected Eliwood. Ah didn't cover half of the details. "Ah" didn't bring up plagues of Risen, children from the future, or dark gods. Then he stopped. "Ah" didn't bring up plagues of Risen, children from the future, or dark gods. In the interests of time, "Ah" was much better for everyone.

"Well, there's a few other details left off, but that's more or less the story."

"I'm surprised you found a way to keep so far from the action. Between Lyn and me, you managed to hit every major political event for more than a year."

"The few other details included two major wars. I've kept busy."

"Of course you have. I was amazed that trouble stopped following you with _just _three dragons."

"Three? I must have forgotten some amazing stories."

Robin didn't bring up that Chrom's shepherds had three dragons of their own by the end of the war. Local attitudes weren't as kind towards non-humans, if the last dream meant anything.

"And you? I know I missed the wedding, but it's been three years. I'm sure I missed more."

"Bandits, politics, the ordinary business of running a country. There's a peace conference between Bern and Etruria. They nearly went to war."

"That sounds worth knowing about."

"It should be. They were looking for a mysterious 'master tactician' who could reshape a whole battlefield."

Lucina smiled.

"You found a second one?"

"Was that a joke?"

Robin shook his head.

"She's not much for jokes. I'm amazed as well. A second mysterious tactician in that short a span, at best it's a coincidence. At worst, it's suspicious bordering on paranoia inducing."

"And if I said it was you?"

"It's still not reassuring."

"You don't trust yourself?"

"You wouldn't either, if you were in my position."

"It's just rumors you were in Bern. Then in Etruria. Old rumors, but they almost boiled over. Well, you're here now. It should help set things to rest."

Lyn lifted a hand to her mouth.

"Oh!"

Eliwood turned to her.

"Oh?"

"Hector. I heard from Florina that he was officiating the peace conference."

"Hector! Ha! That should end the bickering. And replace it with full brawling."

"He's become quite the ruler."

"I don't doubt it. But he's still the same Hector of our childhood days, and I doubt his temper is that much improved."

Robin turned to Eliwood.

"How well did I know Hector? He reminds me of another friend."

"The four of us were inseparable! He asked you to be his daughter's godfather."

"Oh. Good."

Robin looked down. His life did need to get more awkward, didn't it?

Lucina turned to Robin.

"He sounds a little like Chrom. I'm sure he's a man worthy of a throne if he's half the man my father is."

Lyn nodded.

"Well, you should be able to pass your own judgement soon. We'll have to meet him."

Eliwood turned to Lyn.

"What?"

"Robin will need someone of standing to testify for his position, and it's been three years since we've seen Hector. Not since he married that mercenary."

"But…"

"I'm sure your mother and the royal knights can manage for a few days without us. It can be like the old days. You remember, Robin? Heading into the unknown. You were my tactician, and I was your sword. Well, I see you still needed that."

Lucina shook her head.

"I've seen him fight. He has a gift."

"Not when I knew him."

"Oh?"

"I think he tripped over his own robes when I tried to teach him how to hold a blade."

Robin blushed.

"I don't think I need to hear that story."

Lucina shook her head.

"I think I would like to. After all, we all started somewhere. And a gifted mage learning to use a sword is unusual."

"Gifted mage?"

Robin shrugged.

"I know enough practice to get by, and I can discuss the fundamentals with anyone fairly well. I'm not a master, but…"

"You've improved a lot since practicing with Lord Pent?"

"I don't remember that."

Eliwood smiled.

"I don't think anyone else is that lucky. He said you had potential. But Athos himself would break down in tears before it came to the surface."

"I was that bad?"

"I'm still not sure if his eyebrows will ever grow back."

Robin winced. Lucina smiled. And Eliwood shook his head.

"I wish we could have known each other in a better time. Well, time enough now."

"Of course."

"We ride in a few days time, but until then, we can pass our first meetings again, under better circumstances."

"I think I would have taken the opportunity if it came up then. I can't think of a reason to turn the chance down!"

"Well said. But first, I should send a messenger to Hector. I think he deserves to know as much as anyone. More."

"And I want to see him again. I'm sure I owe him my life a time or two as well. I guess I need to let him rub it in."

Robin laughed. Eliwood laughed, and Lyn. Even Lucina after a few more seconds.

The days leading to the travel to Ostia in Castle Pharae passed lightly. Robin shoved his dreams to the side, and a few old memories came to the surface at the best times. Jokes found their source, the food was excellent, and Lucina and Lyn bonded like old friends. Eliwood and Robin were able to talk strategy while they sparred in the halls. A few tapestries were a small price. A wall was a higher price, but everyone agreed that, all things considered, the outside air was a good change of pace.

Robin wished it hadn't ended so soon. Within a week, he was riding again with Lucina, Eliwood, Lyn, and a handful of royal guards. He didn't recognize a single face, even in an echo.

Robin turned to Lyn.

"So, those guards?"

"The royal knights?"

"Did I know them?"

Eliwood rode alongside them.

"I doubt it. We've had to recruit from the local peasantry over the past year, after the losses to the Black Fang."

Robin squinted for a second.

"They're trained well enough to get through drills, but I don't think they'd last long in actual combat. They'd be good at filling a crowd and looking intimidating with a lance, but their armor's too bulky to allow for quick evasion in combat and too fragile to protect against a good weapon."

"You said the same thing about every country's military you saw, with the exception of Bern."

"It's not my fault that the local militias value appearances more than results! Look at the formations, they present a strong front, but give them a little shove, everyone breaks. You need trust in a unit! If you can't rely on the soldier next to you in combat, then you can't do anything."

Eliwood shook his head.

"You said this before. Word for word."

"And you didn't listen?"

"You said it to Lyndis as well. And we did listen. But most new recruits don't want to go through sixty hours of team building exercises every week while you stared into their eyes trying to guess who they'd have the most productive conversations with."

Lucina smiled.

"At least you didn't say anything to father like this."

Robin tugged at his collar.

"I might have. Once or twice."

"Well, everyone…"

"Or seventeen times, eight of them in succession."

"At least you stopped?"

"After five complete reorganizations of the Shepherds."

"It worked?"

"Sully threatened to "Shove her boot so far up my arse that my tongue would be leather for the rest of my short life.". Then someone said it'd still be better than her cooking."

Lucina winced in sympathy.

"So, once everyone had stopped bleeding, Chrom asked me to never try a team building exercise again without making sure it wouldn't tear the team apart and end in horrific tragedy."

"That sounds unpleasant."

"Still better than the time Kjelle prepared a meal for the whole camp."

"It wasn't that bad."

"You are the only person who says that. Including Kjelle."

"We all have our gifts."

"And hers isn't cooking. But I don't think Eliwood needs to hear everything about life in the Shepherds."

Eliwood shrugged. Lyn smiled.

"They can't be much worse than Sain, Erk, and Sierra when we started out."

"You'd be surprised. Some days, with the exception of Lucina and her father, I think everyone in the army is clinically insane. Even my daughter, and she's…"

Lyn's eyes opened wide.

"You have a daughter?"

Lucina nodded.

"Morgan. She's… a handful."

"I'm amazed! A daughter, and you never told us. How old is she? Three months? A year?"

Robin held his tongue before it could pass on "Sixteen or so."

"Old enough to be a handful. Let's leave it at that. She's smart, and everyone likes her, but some days, well…"

"I just wish we could have met her."

"Maybe some day."

"When she's old enough not to need a wet nurse?"

"Some day."

"Well. Hector will be surprised."

Eliwood smiled.

"Pleased, I imagine. He wouldn't want a godparent of his child to try this kind of thing without practice."

Robin lifted his hands in surrender.

"Well, I've benefited from a practice round. I'll say that much."

"I'd imagine. So, you had a story about your comrades?"

"Several. Dozens. Hundreds. And Lucina has a few of her own."

"Let's stick to one for now."

"Fine. If you insist. But I want to hear something about Hector in exchange."

"I think there's one or two you'd want to remember."

The miles passed to tales of heroism and insanity. Even Lucina laughed from time to time. By the time they reached Castle Ostia and the royal protectors (Who Robin admitted were decent enough, after a few minutes.) they were old friends again, complete with incomprehensible in jokes. The guards on the convoy did not share the fondness, and vanished into the surrounding villages to drink peace on their weary feet and ears.

Robin lowered his hood as they approached. It was not the best idea for an internationally wanted man to march in proclaiming his identity.

The bridge lowered after confirmation of proper station, and the group rode into the courtyard. The guard on duty nodded.

"Marquess Pharae. Marchioness Caelin. We were informed you would be present. Marquess Ostia desires your presence at dinner this evening, and your pardon for the delay. He and King Desmond have been in conference for some time, and the matter cannot be delayed."

Robin cupped his hands.

"We're honored to accept his invitation, and understand the difficulties he must be facing."

Eliwood laughed.

"Does Hector know about this?"

"What?"

"I just can't imagine him leaving matters so formal."

"Marquess Ostia merely has proper respect for his station, as did his brother before him. And I assumed from reports I could expect as much from Pharae."

"My apologies to you and to Hector. I was just.. caught off guard."

"Such informality. If I wasn't..."

"Hey!"

A blue haired woman in armor stood on the tower with the guardsmen and shoved him aside. Robin's eye twitched of its own accord.

Lyn's eye matched. Lucina looked back and forth for a moment.

"You know this woman?"

Lyn nodded.

"_Farina_."

"She's… familiar."

"A mercenary. You hired her. For 20,000 gold."

"TWENTY THOUSAND?"

Lucina winced.

"That sounds like more than most mercenaries demand."

"Five. Times. the going rate."

Farina yelled down from the balcony.

"That included hazard pay!"

Robin shook his head.

"I thought everything for mercenaries was hazard pay. Even Severa didn't want 20,000. I've hired some of the best mercenaries in the world for less."

"And the absolute best for that exactly."

Farina paused for a moment.

"And fighting a dragon definitely qualifies for hazard pay. Besides, a girl has to have something to retire on. Can't travel the world looking for clients when you're stuck living in a castle."

Robin smiled.

"Of course. How can you live with that kind of squalor."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"A little."

"Heh! Well, you told Hector to hire me. Can't be too mad at you."

Lyn frowned.

"The feeling isn't mutual."

"I said that not everyone from Scarae was a booga booga tribal who couldn't figure out how to live in cities."

"I don't remember that."

"Pretty sure I did. Anyway, nice to see you all again. Hector's bored out of his skull. Just the five of us again, like old times. "

"It was four."

"And then it was five. The five of us against the world!"

Robin looked to Lucina for a second before he responded.

"Six."

"You're letting someone else in?"

"I already did. Married. This is Lucina."

"How much did you have to pay her?"

Lucina turned red.

"HOW DARE YOU?"

"Wow. That much? You lucky dog!"

Lyn scowled.

Lucina scowled more.

Robin tried to defuse the situation.

"What are you saying?"

"Aw, she's got to be a pro. I know you wouldn't go with anyone else."

"WHAT?"

Farina rolled her eyes.

"You always said you liked a woman who could take care of herself. Besides, she carries herself like a professional."

"You can't be serious."

"Hand on a sword? Always itching for a fight? Come on. Lyn's not exactly standard. Anyone that violent has to be a mercenary. And you wouldn't settle for someone cheap. 5,000 gold, easy. "

"Oh."

Lucina's face faded to a lesser shade of red.

"No."

"No need to be modest. Come on. Who'd get that excited for a fight if she wasn't getting paid for it? A girl has to see opportunity, nothing wrong with that. Or maybe they didn't pay you enough back when you were working? Because I'm a good judge, and I could get you double that."

Robin looked from his wife to the tower.

"Not a mercenary at all."

"Oh. So, she just likes… killing people that much?"

There wasn't a good answer. There wasn't anything close to a good answer. Robin went with the first bad one that came to mind, and prayed for what mercy a dead god could find.

"Not just people."

"What?"

"Dragons, gods, the undead, spirits of legendary heroes. If it fights, she's good at putting it down."

"She fights those things for fun?"

"Duty. Protecting the innocent. Noblesse oblige."

And fun, but Robin didn't want to burn any bridges he had left.

Lucina smiled.

"There are worse ways to spend time."

Farina shrugged.

"Sounds like bad judgement. But Hector says the same thing. Let me know if you ever want to take things more sensibly. I could give you a few pointers."

"Thank you. But I doubt that will be needed."

Robin exhaled for several seconds. He didn't notice the breath when he took it in. Now it took up most of his world.

"You'll have to introduce us again later. She seems pleasant enough."

Lyn raised an eyebrow. Robin rode ahead and mouthed a silent prayer of thanks.

The halls were filled with visiting nobles and their guards. Mages, knights, and mercenaries shoved into each other and argued, with stops for any noble that looked in at the fracas. A wyvern yelled at Robin in the halls when he stepped too close, and the rider shoved him.

"Listen whelp! If you think that a Lycian bit of street trash can get near a Wyvern just because someone claimed him a title, you have a lot to learn."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're sorry? The little idiot is sorry? You're lucky that Hector would frown on killing a guest. I'll accept the apology. Never do it again."

She turned to look at him.

"Wait. You?"

Robin sighed.

"Probably. I've been 'you' for half the country recently. Where do I know you from?"

She steamed.

"You don't even remember my name? Vaida! Dragon fang of Bern!"

"Still nothing. I'm sorry."

Eliwood rushed over.

"He has amnesia. A pleasure to see you again!"

"Eliwood."

"Look at that! Hector insisted that we can't delay. Sorry we can't talk, must run."

Robin followed Eliwood around the corner.

"Did she try to kill us? Did I try to kill her? She didn't seem to like me much."

"Yes. Yes. But no. She still likes you as well as she likes anyone."

"How can you tell?"

"You're still breathing. Come on. Lyn and Lucina say they've found our lodgings. We should prepare before dinner. I don't think we'll have much time after."

The rooms were about the same as the lodgings in Pharae. A little more money, a little less talent for decoration (Eliwood's mother had a gift that money couldn't match.) It would be a good night's rest, if the night allowed it. Not much space when taken for four, but with all the dignitaries, pomp, and miscellaneous inconveniences managing to fit unexpected guests at all was a miracle. Robin made a note to thank Hector later. If he could remember.

And the bed was inviting. A few hours would keep him ready for the night to come. At least, the sleep wouldn't hurt.

_Ninian was dead. And it was all his fault._

_Robin looked at the body. At Eliwood sobbing, clutching the blade. At Eliwood, sure the guilt was his. Not with Lyn's friend, the one who pulled them through so far with so little cost. No one could blame the tactician._

_They might blame the dragonblooded little worm who wouldn't tell his supposed best friends that his girlfriend was a dragon just because he'd put his own arse on the line in the process. So, like a coward, he wouldn't say anything. _

_He looked at the green haired boy near the body. Nils. Ninian's brother, the one person who could reveal everything. But Robin knew he wouldn't. He'd just keep a grudge. _

"_Eliwood. I'm sorry."_

"_You couldn't have known. No-one could have known."_

"_I should have. I'm supposed to be this army's tactician. To plan for the impossible and the unknown."_

_And the definite. And the known._

_Lyn stepped in. Robin stepped back._

"_I know. You want to talk to Eliwood."_

"_No. This is his mourning. And in time, he'll have his vengeance. I need to talk to you."_

"_I'm"_

_a monster who doesn't deserve to draw the same breath as any of you._

"_Fine."_

"_There was nothing you could do."_

_Lyn tried to smile. It didn't come easily._

"_It's like you always say. It was already written."_

"Robin!"

Lucina and Lyn were looking at him. Robin snapped to his feet.

"What was wrong, dear?"

"Nothing but memories."

He turned to look for Eliwood.

"I think I have to make some apologies. Where's Eliwood?"

Lyn shook her head.

"You'll have time for that at dinner. He's with Hector already, probably making excuses for you."

Robin snapped to his feet.

"Gods! Already? I need to find something."

Lucina smiled.

"We don't have time. I'm sure he'll just be happy to see you."

Lyn nodded.

"Happier if you aren't in something formal. Come on."

Robin followed Lyn along crowded hallways to a massive dining hall. The rows were lined with dignitaries and nobles. Robin felt awkward in his robe, stained with grass, mud, and blood through years of campaigns. Then he looked to the head of the table. A blue haired man in massive armor looked back at him. Then he smiled.

"Robin! I can't believe it! How long has it been?"

He matched the face to a name he'd heard in a dream not an hour gone, and buried the guilt that surfaced with it.

"Too long, Hector."

"And you promised to be godfather to my son!"

Farina stood next to him. Robin risked a joke.

"I thought I had a little time to spare. It could be years before Farina would spend a night with you."

"Ha!"

Lucina frowned.

"I thought you had a happy marriage."

"We do. Err, Robin? Who is this?"

"Lucina. My wife. "

"And you had a wedding without me on top of all of that? Farina, can you believe this? So much for a best friend! Might as well let him mentor Eliwood's little son. Let my boy fend for himself!"

"And you're sure it'll be a boy?"

"Of course! How else could Eliwood and I know whose son is strongest?"

Robin and Farina shook their heads in unison.

"Or you could train your daughter to fight. It's been done."

Lucina's hand pulled closer to her sword and her mouth pulled closer to a smile. Hector looked past the whole discussion.

"We can talk about it later. Take a seat! The guest of honor is here. Which means, for those of you who forgot the whole purpose of this skirmish, that neither of you were right, he was in Pharae all along, and you nearly started a global war tracking down a man who wouldn't work for you anyway."

Eliwood winced.

"So much for political delicacy."

Lyn shrugged.

"I didn't expect any. Did you?"

Hector continued his speech at the front.

"Now, if any of you have any _important _business, I'll listen. If it's the same bickering from the last three days, I think I'll meet with a few old friends who I haven't seen in far too long."

A man at his side coughed.

"Are you sure?"

"Dammit, Oswin. I haven't seen Eliwood and Lyn since my brother's funeral. I think there's catching up for all of us. And Robin's been gone for longer still. I doubt leaving these idiots alone for ten minutes will do any more harm than they would with me watching them."

"If you insist, sire."

"I do. You can manage while I'm gone, I think. Come on, Eliwood! Just like old times."

Robin grumbled as he followed, but his heart wasn't into it. Lyn and Eliwood took the same position.

So, a missed meal? Well, it wasn't bear meat. Now that would have been a loss.

Hector met them in an armory that felt like one of a very large set.

"Robin! Eliwood! Lyn! And…"

"Lucina."

"Robin managed to ask a woman out. And she married you? _You old dog_. You have to tell the story."

"I worked for her father as a tactician. Saw her carry a blade in battle. I'd never seen anyone as perfect with it before. Haven't since. I married her two years later."

"Two years gap? Eliwood worked faster."

Robin smiled and took a risk.

"If memory serves, _Lyn _worked faster. Not Eliwood. And they had more opportunity."

"You were always good with an excuse."

"One of the first rules for a tactician. Always have an exit strategy. I wouldn't be much good at what you needed from me if I could be cornered that quickly."

Hector turned to Lucina.

"You should keep an eye on this one. He's a slippery devil."

Robin smiled.

"Not as much as I used to be. She pinned me down for life."

"Good. I'd hate to think of you enjoying the bachelor life without me."

"I didn't enjoy it that much to begin with."

"That's because you did it with Sain."

"Gods. The memories come back. I wish they'd stay away."

"Yes. You would have gotten a different impression if he wasn't there. Trust me."

"I do. If only because I can't imagine it being worse."

"Neither can I."

Hector's eye fell to Robin's side.

"Carrying a sword now? Is it ceremonial?"

"I've learned since last time we met. A little."

"Well, I can't imagine you being worse. We'll have to cross blades some time."

Lucina stepped forward.

"I would like to try now. If it's not too much trouble."

Hector turned to her.

"Well, you're a…"

Lyn glared.

Farina glared.

"I'm sure your father would…"

"I've gone more than a few rounds against him. I see a little of his style in your stance. I would love to compare it with you."

Hector sighed.

"Well, I don't think I have much of a choice. Just don't complain if you get hurt. I'm not good at holding back."

"I won't."

Farina smiled. Lyn leaned over to Robin.

"Won't complain, or won't hold back?"

"Knowing Lucina, I'm not expecting either."

Lucina looked at the room.

"A shame to wreck this armory. And a poor fight if no one has the room to maneuver. A stray blow could get caught in the shelves."

"I was thinking the same thing. But you probably have a delicate style like Lyn's. It was offering a handicap."

"I take my style from my father. If he was here, there wouldn't be a room before the fight ended."

"Sounds like a man after my own heart. Come on, then! The central hall has a ring for duels."

Lyn, Robin, and Eliwood winced in unison. Lucina paused.

"The hall where the assembled dignitaries of the continent are waiting for you?"

"They could use some distraction."

Lucina smiled. Lyn cleared her throat.

"Hector?"

Robin and Farina spoke in concert.

"It won't work. You can't argue with (him her) when they're like this."

Robin and Farina locked eyes then looked away.

By the time their eyes returned to Hector, the combatants were falling through the halls to the central arena. Robin, Eliwood, Lyn, and Farina ran after them.

Hector rolled back as they entered the main arena. His axe strained under Lucina's sword. A kick forced her back, and he slid onto his feet to press the attack.

In the crowd, someone gasped. A grey haired man in a sage's robes stood and blasted Lucina with wind. She staggered and recovered. Falchion glowed.

"Assassins!"

Lucina twisted on a string.

"Where?"

Hector laughed.

"I think they mean you."

"Oh."

"We should have thought this through better."

"Still. It's been an honor to fight with you. I've seen echoes, but never the real thing."

"Echoes?"

"Err.."

"What kind of echoes are you talking about?"

"Others imitating your style. The stories spread far and wide."

"Well, I haven't heard many of them. Or seen many people fighting like me."

"I have."

"Also, I've never seen anyone who fights like you. And there isn't a sword like that anywhere."

"I've seen… one like it?"

Lucina looked out at the crowd.

"But there are more important things. I think you should explain things before they get out of hand."

"Right. Everyone? Robin is working for someone else. His daughter is here to discuss treaties, and it got a little heated. Still, I'm sure Lycia and…"

"Ylisse."

"Will have a mutually beneficial relationship in the future."

Someone stood up towards the back of the room. A man in massive purple armor.

"And why haven't you told the rest of us about it?"

Robin leaned to Eliwood.

"Who is that?"

"Desmond. King of Bern. The teenager near him is his son Zephidel."

And Robin's mind started spinning.

_Hector waved goodbye. _

"_Remember, I'm expecting you to be my son's godfather!"_

"_And Farina's expecting a girl. Someone's going to be disappointed."_

"_Well, I'll apologize to her then. Don't be gone for too long."_

"_I won't. Give Eliwood my best."_

_Robin left. It wasn't that long since he arrived, but it was still more like home than home ever was. People he could trust. Some real benefit from his presence. And no prophecy of doom hanging over his head. He smiled. All his sins, not forgiven, maybe, but forgotten. Even the girl came back. Not perfect, gods knew that much, but he did well. And he could come back. Forget destiny, forget where he belonged, and drift to peaceful old age and die. Maybe even find a girl, settle down..._

**You think it's over? **

_Robin shook. It wasn't his thoughts. _

**They'll die. They'll all die.**

_Everyone died eventually. It was a tragic fact of life._

_Then the images came. Lyn dead. Eliwood dying. The whole country burning. And Hector being killed by Zephiel. Someone he saved. Someone who was his fault. And the images kept coming. Kept pummeling his mind. _

**You have an escape. You have a birthright. Burn the world, and you can avoid it all. Embrace your destiny. End the usurpers. **

_Robin ran. Zephiel's face mocked him. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't know what he could do. But he knew he failed. _

_Every second burned. He'd saved the destroyer. He'd killed his closest friends. By omission, and now by action. And the alternative was worse._

_Damn him. And damn Zephiel. _

_Well, they were all damned already. No point in adding to the pile._

And now he had another chance. Zephiel was in front of him. The man who would make this place burn. The source of his nightmares. And he was still a child.

Robin shook his head. Not THAT much younger than he was when he first arrived. But still. Not the man he would become.

In other words, he still had time.

"Zephiel! We helped with his ascension ceremony, didn't we? Something about the Fire Emblem?"

Hector half smiled.

"Something about assassins and bad parenting."

Eliwood stepped forward.

"Hector?"

"Don't worry. I won't call visiting noble a cur to his face. And I'm sure all the family problems are sorted out."

Desmond snorted.

"A fine host. I'm sure your brother would be proud."

Robin squirmed in place. He knew this would be a disaster. He had hoped that he could manage it. So much for that. Well, damage control, then.

"I'm sorry, King Desmond. If I wasn't otherwise occupied, I would have looked into your generous offers."

"You should."

"I received a better one first."

Robin nodded towards Lucina.

"It's like the bards say. Never for money. Always for love."

"Oh. A common harlot. I thought you had more sense."

Robin bit his tongue before he could say anything he wanted to say. He had something important to do, and arguing wouldn't help.

"I won't argue with you. But that's not what I was thinking about. I heard your son has a natural knack for the sword."

"You can't trust peasants."

"I didn't say I could. But, um,"

Lie fast, and lie confident. It's the only way.

"Either way, I've been needing a sparring partner. I've been trying to learn the basics, but practice makes perfect. Fighting you, I'd just learn how quickly I'd lose. But Zephiel might still be new enough to let me learn."

"Hmm."

"I know you're worried about accidents. He's your only son. But there's no way of learning without risks. And I'm sure you'd step in before anything too serious could happen."

Robin felt sick. He was acting as an assassin, and hiding the task on top. He'd be killing a child. And all for a future that wasn't guaranteed.

It came close enough. And he'd been willing to give his own life for less.

"You should, then."

Lucina cleared her throat.

"Amateur?"

Robin turned back to her.

"Just trust me on this. And no matter what happens, I love you more than anything else in the world. "

"That's not encouraging."

"Trust me."

Robin nodded to Zephiel.

"Well, Hector tested the arena for us. I think it should work for our purposes."

Zephiel hesitated.

"You saved my life. I wouldn't want to…"

"You're a king in the making. I think a few nicks and scratches would be an honor."

"If you insist."

"We can even make it a safer duel. Points. Tap with the blade, and score. First to three wins."

"Is that the custom here?"

"No. But Hector sets the customs, and I don't think either of us would be up for his hobbies. He can judge."

Another smile. Just try to be friendly. Ignore what needs to be done until the time comes.

Step into the arena. Nod. No words. Words are traitors when you need them most. Just stick to muscle memory.

First point. Careful parry, exaggerated caution. Look like a rookie. Get his guard down. Find his strengths.

Zephiel went for a few scouting blows. Let them come, deflect a hair too slow, aaand…

"First point, Zephiel!"

Smile. Not a broad smile. Awkward. Just tell him that you're still new at this. That you aren't someone to worry about.

Second round, show a little more caution. Don't force the point. Make him work a little, but give a few clumsy mistakes. Then…

"Second point, Zephiel."

Hector looked confused. Lucina looked confused. Fine. Set them at ease with the next round.

Robin kept the awkward stance right until Zephiel leaned just right. Stumble. _Tap_.

"First point, Robin!"

Zephiel smiled.

"I thought you were an amateur."

Robin smiled back. Not talking would look even worse than talking this time. Not too many words, not too much given away. Just keep the smile from looking planned and the wordcount low, it should all come close enough to clean to excuse.

"Amateurs get lucky. I guess watching Lyn for all those years taught me _something_."

Hector looked like he was about to say something. Farina jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow.

Nod. Blade out. One more sound, one more syllable, and it might give the game away. Careful timing. Careful positioning. Make Zephiel think he was a rookie still. Show Hector and Lucina he was playing it, holding back so as to not embarrass the visiting royalty. Careful timing, trip to fall into a dodge, and when he looks down to see if you're injured…

"Second point, Robin. Tied game. Match point"

"I need to watch you more closely!"

"Turning disadvantage into victory is the first mark of a good tactician. I learned that much already. Unfortunately, that about exhausts my training. I'm at the flailing and wincing stage now."

Well, not quite. But ten, fifteen years down the line, that would be a rough summation of his plan for fighting the Prince one on one. Robin recognized genius when he saw it. Not a common thing. Oh, anyone could become competent. Most people even had the potential to be elite. The gap between the Shepherds and the Ylissean army was much more commitment, training, and trust than natural talent.

But there were those rare people who had an extra bit of spark. Lucina, Hector, even Morgan showed it where he didn't. It must have come from her mother. (Presumably, Tacticians had the same limits, but Robin made it a goal to study harder than anyone else born. No risk of competition yet, except maybe his daughter. And there, he'd be proud to lose.)

Zephiel? He could be one of the best. No wonder he'd take on the world. A man like that, with a good army?

Walhart taught him where that would lead.

Third point would have to be final. For everyone's sake.

Dodge. Tap. Dodge. Keep mobile. Keep alive. And look for a real opening.

In combat, it would be easier. A half second's gap would be enough. Here, Robin needed something he could trip into. He needed to be able to claim it was an accident after, even when he talked to himself. He needed to lie and believe it.

Well, he needed that if he ever wanted to sleep sound. And that needed a big opening. After what felt like an eternity, one came.

Robin fell forward, his sword towards Zephiel's neck. It wouldn't take much of a push to kill. And then it would be over. The world saved. Everything made right.

And innocent blood all over the floor.

Robin paused with the blade a half inch from Zephiel's throat. It would be easy. It would be for the best. It would remake history in the image of heroes and kings, not tyranny and death.

It would be murder. He couldn't do it.

"Third point, Zephiel!"

Robin dropped his sword with a clatter.

"I've still got a long way to go, then. Thanks."

He turned.

Failure, then. And more severe than any before. He'd saved his world. He lost everywhere else. And the win wasn't even his. Left to his own devices, he'd have damned that as sure as he lost here.

"Sorry, but that last round took more out of me than I thought. I'm going back to my room, if that's alright with everyone."

He didn't wait for a response. Hector had already ruined any propriety the whole damned mess had. Why pretend it was still around?

His feet knew the route, which left his mind free to run through the details of the world to come. It was a simple little formula. He'd seen it before, in Valm. He'd seen the damage a man could do with will and an army at his beck and call, without an opposing force strong enough to stop it.

Robin looked at the wall. The wall, to its credit, did not look back.

After a few more seconds of staring and considering the benefits of just breaking down and sobbing on the floor, Robin felt a hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

Lucina. Of course.

"I lost."

"Well, everyone has off days. It was kind of you to allow Zephiel a victory. "

"It was kind of me to let him live. And I shouldn't have."

"What?"

"In ten years, twenty at the outside…"

Robin sighed.

"Look. It's all dreams and half remembered… but I know it's true. He's going to murder most of the people in this castle. Plunge the world into war."

"Oh. Well, you're right. Something should be done."

"And I'm not the man to do it. Too weak. Too cowardly."

Lucina punched Robin in the face.

"Too decent to murder a man in cold blood!"

She looked at her fist, and back to her husband.

"I'm so sorry! I just, I mean…"

Robin chuckled through an injured jaw.

"Your mom did the same thing when Chrom was moping. I guess it runs in the family."

"I had to do something. You almost made the mistake I nearly did."

"I was fine with it then."

"That doesn't make it right. The world would have lost a great man, and Grima would return eventually. All on fear."

"I still think…"

"I don't. I know I almost did something I could never live with. You wouldn't have done any better."

"Thank you? But that doesn't solve the problem. Zephiel's an innocent now, but…"

"But he needs someone to remind him what's right from time to time."

"And he won't have you."

"No, but he will..."

"I'm not exaggerating here. If you hadn't been there, if you hadn't changed things, it would have all gone wrong again."

"He'll have you."

"Thanks for the permission, but he's not my type."

"That wasn't what I had in mind. At all."

Robin smiled.

"It was a joke."

"Oh. Ha. Hahahahaha?"

"_Thank you"_

Lucina cleared her throat.

"I think he just needs someone to warn him what he could be. That was more than enough to stop you. If he's half the man you are, then it should be enough to save the world."

"If he's only half the man I am, then he's not much at all."

"Don't sell yourself so short!"

"Fine. But only because you asked! How wonderful should I admit to being?"

"The finest man in the world? At bare minimum, in contention."

"Well. That's a lot to live up to. I don't think I can handle the stress. Still, I'll go and talk to Zephiel. If you think I can help."

Robin walked into the hall. To his surprise, Zephiel was waiting right outside. At least it saved him a walk.

"Um. You did well?"

"That isn't what you're here for."

The prince swept his foot.

"You could have won. Did… did my father tell you to throw the match? I know we've been trying to understand each other better, and I'm grateful, but I just wanted to be a family."

"He asked me to kill you. And it's going to get worse."

Robin slammed his jaw shut. Things were bad enough already. No need to speed up the timeline.

"He couldn't! Mother had been..."

Robin sighed.

"Lied to. Your father's going to try to kill you until you kill him."

"But that can't be right. There has to be something I can do."

"There isn't, short of killing him."

"I don't want to believe that."

"I don't either. But it's true. Some people are monsters. You can't change them, not always, not if they want to go wrong. All you can control is you."

"It's easy for you to say."

"No. I remember my father's blood running down my arm, a sword in his heart to the hilt. Look. I'd love an alternative. If you find one, I'll help. But sometimes, people betray you. Things go wrong. There's nothing you can do but try to minimize the damage. You just have to get through."

Zephiel's face was a mask of terror.

Robin raised his hands.

"And here's why. There's people worth living for. There's going to be another day once you're through hell, and there's going to be people who need you to be a good king and a good man. I know you can do it."

"You killed your father?"

"I killed myself too. It's a long story. And you're the first person I've brought it up in front of who wasn't there. Do you know why?"

"No. I don't want to know."

Dammit. Don't terrify the kid.

"Because you're meant to be something horrible. And I know you can do better. I was meant to be the dragon that ends the world. You're meant to be the tyrant that murders Hector. We can be better. I know we can."

Still terrified, but something else was in Zephiel's eye.

"A dragon? I've always wanted to meet a dragon."

"Well, pleased to make your acquaintance. But there's better dragons I've met. I can tell you about them over desert, assuming Hector hasn't had it burnt to a crisp. Just a minute."

Robin walked back to Lucina.

"I think I'm ready to meet back with everyone. Thank you. Again."

The rest of the night passed well. And for the first time in months, Robin slept without dreams.

* * *

><p><strong>(Author's notes: Okay, this chapter barely fits within the stated perimeters for the story. Sorry if that disappoints. I had something else in the works, but it's been ballooning a little, and won't be ready for a while. This is kind of a stopgap. Hope it's of acceptable quality.<br>**

**As for the story itself, came from taking Lyn at her word in the DLC. Combine Robin wanting to confirm the first concrete information on the time between leaving Plegia, the way legends seem to drift through the outrealms, and a guilty conscience (because if anyone in the game has an overactive conscience, it's the avatar) and here we are.**

**Oh, and, with all due apologies if this feels needy, I wouldn't mind more reviews. It's sometimes difficult to know what works and what doesn't in a vacuum, and having twice as many chapters as reviews is a rather limited amount of input. **

**So, as is the tradition, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the show.)**


	7. A man and a woman

Aaron of Ferox was in love.

He'd tried to phrase it other ways before. That he respected his commanding officer. That he hadn't seen a finer soldier other than the Khans. That he could, on a purely intellectual level, acknowledge that she was brilliant, kind to a fault, and incredibly beautiful. But love was for haughty nobles off in the burning lands and schoolchildren. It would be absurd to suggest one of the Khan's hand picked bodyguards, the greatest warriors in the whole of Ragna Ferox, would go for such a childish emotion.

Then Khan Flavia walked right up to him, slapped him in the face, and told him to just talk to the girl instead of mewling about like a gods-damned puppy, and now he had to admit that yes. He was in love.

She called herself Marth, and a few of the older hands thought that was funny. Apparently, he was a legendary hero down south. Then again, it was a joke in the arena that anyone coulda been a legendary hero in the south until recently. Their current king was a man, right enough, but his predecessors were weaklings and maniacs, and the further south you went, the worse it got. Idiots down south nearly got the world destroyed before he was born, and if it hadn't been for the Khan's good old Feroxi steel, the rest of the world'd been dragon chow. But Marth… if she was from the south, she went so far it warped back around to north again. And now, she was in a meeting with both Khans. She was Lon'qu's right hand! And he was going to barge in and ask if she wanted to marry him, just because the reigning Khan said he had a shot.

He pulled in his breath. There were scarier things after all. Like telling the old woman that you weren't taking her advice. Then he charged the door.

"Marth you're the most amazing woman in the world and I love you and if you would take this humble and worthless mercenary as your husband and/or boytoy really whatever's fine just please don't kill me."

Every eye in the room was on him. Khan Flavia. Khan Lon'qu. Old man Basilio, gods knew why he was allowed at the meeting but there he was. And, of course, Marth. And they were snickering.

Flavia stopped just long enough to shake her head.

"Gods. I can't believe _this _is the man you think is good enough."

Marth smiled under her mask and, if Aaron didn't miss his guess, blushed. He didn't even know she could do that.

"He has his moments."

He coughed.

"So, um… would anyone object?"

Lon'qu came closer to smiling than he had in months.

"No-one here. Her family might."

"She has a family?"

It was a stupid question. Of course she had a family. Aaron knew she had a family. Everyone had a family, even foundlings like him had someone, the Old Man if no-one else would bother, to substitute for parents in addition to whatever wolf eaten carcasses had dumped them on a Risen infested mountain. He'd just never considered that Marth would bother with one. The barracks had theories, of course. Cut from a mountainside solely to fight. Spawned direct from the mind of Naga. All the blood spilled in a thousand wars between nobles congealed into a merc, and she wandered into Regna Ferox one night looking for a job.

Parents who still gave a damn about her were never even on the board. And, to her credit, Marth didn't call him on his stupidity.

"I… haven't talked about them much, have I? It seemed rude. You were all saying how much better off we were than being burdened with letters home and grieving parents. I didn't want to intrude."

"Well, it only left me looking like an idiot now, and I can do that pretty well on my own. Gods, and we're eating off the Khan's table every third night, and they're scrounging in the lean times like everyone else. I'm sure you do what you can for them, but two mercs can provide better than one."

"You think they live like that?"

"It's the Feroxi way, isn't it? Start with nothing, fight for everything, and no blue bloods clogging up the gears. The best scramble to the top, the rest… well, we provide for them as best we can, but it's not like they can expect special treatment just for having a funny birthmark!"

Old man Basilio laughed.

"Thick little sprog, isn't he? Sorry your highness. Would have put more effort into training him right if I knew you'd take a shine to him."

"Your… highness? I mean, she's got a lock on the khanate when… Oh. Oh, gods."

"Managed to figure out before you finished the sentence this time. Might be hope for you yet! Still serious about her?"

"Even if the world was ending."

"That's the spirit. Not too far off the mark, either, way I heard it."

"What?"

"Ah, not my story. Well, not more than a part, and that was in my prime. Used to run this place, you know, before her father got in the way. Anyway, if you really have the nerve, she's got a ride waiting for you outside."

Aaron looked around.

"Wait. I thought this was just a conference. You were leaving? I mean, you have the right to leave. If you want to. I mean not that I could..."

Marth blushed again.

"Flavia said you were going to… suggest something. I wanted to be prepared."

Flavia shook her head.

"She'd been feeding you hints for six months, and you still were too thick to act on them. If the only way to get you going was to set things up myself, then I'd do it."

Marth turned to the Khan.

"Thank you, by the way."

"I could pay back an old friend and remove one of the biggest threats to my throne from play at once. It's the least I could do."

"It's a little more than that."

"Then consider that a bonus to get something off an old friend's hands. Now, if you two lovebirds are done talking, go outside and let an old woman have her rest."

"An old woman who can still destroy me in the arena."

"Ha! Not for much longer, if I'm any judge."

The two women embraced. Then Marth nodded to Lon'qu.

"Sir."

"Your highness."

"Have I?"

"No. But you're the closest I've seen."

"As good as I can expect. Thank you."

She turned to Aaron.

"I'm ready to leave if you are."

"What was that about?"

"An old family story. I'm sure someone else could explain it better than I could. The greatest arena battle in the history of Regna Ferox, they say. And apparently I managed to at least approach their legacy."

Aaron shrugged.

"If you say so. Me, I don't like worrying too much about the past. Being the best you can here and now counts for more. And, if you don't mind me saying so…"

"Yes. I know. But I still appreciate the sentiment."

She stepped out, and he followed to see two pegasi. Each with a woman in armor next to it. The markings said they were royal knights, and Aaron had his doubts that even the most south-bound soul would be such a fool as to leave the position to amateurs. He took their measure before saying a word to them.

The woman at the front had red armor, messy brown hair, and a smile that seemed to have his number far too quickly. She carried herself like a professional, and the captain's stars on her shoulder backed the idea.

The white haired girl in the back, the one in rookie green armor… just tripped. Aaron decided that she was not the priority if things went pear shaped.

The girl on the ground looked up at Marth and smiled.

"Hey Lucy! Is this your boyyyfriiieeennnd?"

Aaron turned to Marth.

"Lucy?"

"An old nickname."

The Captain nodded.

"Those were the days. Before mom had me drilling 24/7 and I had to be the good role model for everyone. You were a jerk, Lu, leaving like that."

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't apologize. You just make me feel worse. And hold on a second."

She turned to the girl on the ground.

"CADET CYNTHIA!"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Did I give you permission to crawl on the ground like a worm, you little nerd turd?"

"No?"

"No, I didn't. Because you said that this time you were committed! This time you'd be a good cadet, and really IMPRESS the princess with how good you were at something besides picking out party dresses. I'm not seeing it!"

She turned back to Marth.

"Really, she has gotten better. I mean, she's still the last cadet I'd trust in a warzone, and gawds do I hate to think about taking her to deal with Risen, but she knows which end of a spear to use, at least."

Marth coughed.

"You could be more polite."

"I could be. But it wouldn't get anything done. So, this is the guy?"

"Err…"

The captain looked Aaron up and down, then nodded.

"Not bad. You're Aaron, right? The idiot who took six months just to figure out a girl liked him?"

"I wasn't…"

"Don't make excuses. You'll just look like more of a moron."

The woman held out her hand.

"Captain Severa. Ylissean pegasus knights."

"Aaron. Bodyguard to…"

"I know. And no offense, but I don't much care. Lucy likes you, good for her, but I want to get the barbarian stink out of my nose as soon as possible, so tell Cynthia we're leaving. And if you don't want to get left behind, you can ride with her."

"I don't know how to…"

"Look. Cynthia knows how to handle it, and even you can't be as stupid as she is. Just do what she says, and don't fall to your death. Go on. Get going!"

Aaron backed away towards Cynthia. Marth was pulling her out of the mud.

"I think we're leaving. I hope you packed, because I didn't expect any of this."

"Of course."

"And you packed up your mask."

He'd seen her eyes before. It wasn't like she wore the mask all the time. But Aaron was used to it. It was part of her mystique, the steel between her and the world. Seeing it down in broad daylight felt bizarre. Mountains walking into the sea.

"Of course. I can't very well wear it into a family gathering."

Severa looked over at them.

"Because you stole it?"

"No! I would never… Morgan said it would be… And I was planning to return it!"

"She stole it. Really, she acts like she's Miss Perfect, but give her a chance…"

"You said you wanted to leave now. Cynthia, are you ready?"

"Yep!"

"Then we can continue this discussion in Ylisse."

Aaron stumbled onto the back of Cynthia's pegasus and tried to believe things would go well. It wasn't easy. The flight just made it harder. Whatever virtues Cynthia might have, patience wasn't one of them. The pegasus zipped in random directions throughout the trip south, and Cynthia chattered for the whole trip about… well, Aaron didn't know what she was talking about. It could have been something important, interesting, and enlightening. But he was too busy keeping his lunch down to notice. By the time they came in for a crash landing in a palace garden behind Severa's pegasus, Aaron was too grateful to be on the ground again to much care about how graceful the process was.

When Marth helped him to his feet, that just made things better.

"I'm sorry if you had a difficult journey."

"It's nothing. I'm tough. Laugh in the face of pain."

"HA!"

Aaron turned. He didn't was reasonably sure that Severa and Cynthia didn't laugh like that. And Marth… rarely laughed at all. She certainly wasn't laughing now. He turned to see a blue haired woman smiling.

"Well, you asked me to laugh. Everyone's waiting for you already."

Blue hair. In her thirties or thereabout. (It was hard to tell with her, and Aaron wasn't much good at guessing a woman's age to begin with. Flavia said it was one of his more charming qualities.) Eyes that looked like Marth's, barring a creepy glow for the new woman and Marth's odd mark.

Aaron had a guess.

"You're her mother?"

"Daughter. Close enough!"

Aaron wasn't _that _bad with ages. But before he could question it, Marth was running over.

"Morgan!"

"Yup! Still me. Good memory. I mean, I barely remembered I'm me this long. So, is this not-dad?"

"He **is **the man I…"

"Like I said. Not-dad."

Morgan walked closer and stared Aaron in the eyes.

"Don't tell me anything. Dad did this all the time, and it looked really cool when he got it right. Now that he doesn't, I have to keep up the family tradition."

Aaron coughed.

"Umm…"

"Aw, please? It really ruins the effect when you say things."

"I just said 'Umm'!"

"Which gave me your rough accent, probable place of birth, recent associates, and since I have Lucy as a control, I can guess if you've moved anywhere lately. Way too easy."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're doing it on purpose now. Which is okay! That's exactly what I would do. "

Aaron didn't respond. After a few seconds, Morgan nodded.

"Feroxi, mercenary training. At least… three years combat experience. Some time spent… farming? That's weird. But hey! Looks like it worked for you!"

Aaron shrugged.

"There was a place near the camp. People there needed extra help, I had some downtime, it wasn't that big a deal."

And Marth was there sometimes too. He didn't make the connection then, but by the lady it was obvious now! Oh, yes. It was a coincidence that the place he most wanted to be was always where she was. And feeling hollow when she wasn't there? Just having an off day.

"Well, that and growing up around Basilio was most of what I had. I mean, anyone could figure out the blushing part."

Marth coughed.

"Blushing?"

"Oh, man! There's hearts bubbling over your heads! That's _hilarious_."

Morgan shook her head.

"But that's probably long enough. Dad and Grandpa and Mom-prime and Grandma are all waiting. Which is kinda selfish of me already, but I think tiny me is also there, and wasting my own time _really _feels like I'm in the wrong. Come on!"

Severa coughed.

"Um, Ma'am?"

"Right. Uh, have Cynthia take the horses back. Severa, you're... free to do whatever you want?"

"So, I don't have to spend more time around Cynthia?"

"No."

"And Cynthia has to spend all night cleaning up pegasus mess while I get to attend a royal banquet with mom out of town."

"Probably! No time to argue!"

Severa smiled.

"Why do they say you're the devil again? I'm not seeing it."

The group stumbled into the palace, minus Cynthia, and Aaron gasped. It was decadence. It was ridiculous. It was completely unnecessary.

It was also the most beautiful building he'd ever seen. Someone living there had good taste. Decadent, but good.

Morgan lead them through the corridors with as much chatter as Cynthia gave them for the trip from Ferox. The difference, or at least one of the differences, was that Cynthia's nattering almost never had a particular purpose. She wanted to talk, and as long as no-one outright objected, she'd keep going. Morgan was different. Her meandering conversations tended to connect to the circumstances at hand. Sure, it was a rock skipping on a pond. Every impact with a relevant topic was brief and hard to see unless you were looking for it, and her words skipped through the air between. But if you followed it, you could see the steady approach of a point, and, with luck, something interesting.

"And Grandma got that painting as a replacement for the one I accidentally burned down. And that one's a replacement for one grandpa smashed through on accident. And that wall… well, I was really sorry, and my sword broke too, so it's _kind of _like I paid for it, even if I blamed it on Owain."

Marth coughed.

"How long ago was this?"

"Over a decade? Owain still thinks he did it, so… try not to tell him. I still can't believe that worked."

As the walk continued, Aaron tried to piece what he could together from the stories. Marth's family had a tendency towards breaking… well, everything. At least on her father's side. Really, he wasn't at all what he'd expect of a noble. More like a Feroxi, and that was as good as compliments got. On the other hand, her mother… sounded different. The polite way to put it would be to say she sounded like a noble. The Feroxi way to put it would be to say she sounded like a _gods damned noble. _And either way you put it, he was not looking forward to meeting her.

Morgan smiled.

"And I know you're really looking forward to meeting grandma, so… here you go!"

One hand drew a wind tome and blasted open a door. The shoved Aaron forward. Before he could recover from the stumble, all four of them were in an audience hall with the doors slammed shut.

Several less flattering nicknames for Marth's… 'daughter' made much more sense now. Aaron wished he'd paid attention to them earlier. He might have been able to handle the situation at his own pace then. Or at least he could avoid stumbling like a rookie in front of the most perfect woman in the world's family.

He looked up and across the room and saw a whole crowd ready to judge him. At the edges, a young woman and a young man, a little younger than he was, who both looked a lot like Morgan. One notch in on either side, he saw a scruffy looking man in a beaten down old coat soiled from a thousand campaigns, and his opposite in more than one sense, a proper looking woman in robes that didn't look like they'd seen dirt since it was invented. And in the center, what had to be the king and queen. The man fit Morgan's stories and the old tales up north, a warrior who could face down a god without flinching. The woman didn't look as prim and proper as he expected, hell, he could see a few good scars, but she did look a lot like Marth with another couple of decades and a longer haircut. There were more faces in the crowd, too many for a quick accounting, but they ranged from mages to warriors to nobles to… gods, was that a dragon?

Morgan waved at all of them. The twins waved back, but it was the woman in robes who spoke first.

"_Another_ ruffian. I wish I could be surprised, dear. I don't suppose we can hope that this one is secretly nobility?"

Aaron shook his head.

"Not in the slightest."

"Of course. Gods know we couldn't be that lucky twice."

Marth stepped forward.

"He's a good man. One of the finest I've met! Isn't nobility of spirit…"

"Well of course he is. You'll notice that we're having a polite conversation. If I thought he was planning to knock one hair on your head out of place, (and speaking of your hair would it have killed you to have a proper beautician prepare something instead of lopping it off in huge chunks with a knife like some kind of _barbarian_) then he wouldn't see daylight again. Just because I trust your judgement enough to let you gallop off to fight for your living like some kind of peasant you have no right to assume I stopped caring about you."

"I never would assume that."

"And I would never assume my daughter would bring someone unworthy of her attention in front of me. But really, would it have hurt you too much to find someone with a little more… class? A mother has to ask."

The man in the coat cleared his throat.

"Look at it this way. She isn't marrying a dark god, a demon dragon, or a sleeper agent for a hostile power."

"At least those have a little dignity to them. A dark god, for all its social faults, is an accepted institution."

"Which explains all the excuses you _haven't _made for me."

"Well, if the aforementioned dark god insists on being treated like a member of the common rabble, then the rules of good manners state that you indulge its curious habit and treat him like a commoner."

"I still have my doubts that there's a guidebook on proper manners when meeting a dark god."

"Well, if you ever read a single page of one etiquette guide, I might think you had a valid opinion."

"And if I'd ever seen a hint that one of them had something worth saying anywhere in its, average size an estimate based on mass, 1,500,000 pages, then I'd look at one. But…"

The blue haired man in the center sighed.

"I think we've all heard this argument often enough. Now, if the Queen of Ylisse and the King of Plegia would please settle down for a moment? Gods. Emeryn would jump out of her grave in shock now. A diplomatic meeting where I'm the voice of restraint."

"Sorry."

"I apologize for indulging your uncouth friend, my love."

"Good enough. Look at us. The most powerful people in the world, arguing like a bunch of schoolchildren. So! You're the man who thinks he's good enough for my daughter."

Aaron looked at the blue haired man and started sweating. He knew what it looked like when someone was planning to murder him, and he knew what it looked like when someone was quite capable of murdering him. It was rare to see them both, and rarer to live to tell about it after. He passed on a silent prayer and tried to find the right words to make it to the end of the day.

"I don't know if I'm good enough. Hell if anyone I've met is. But I'd do my best, if she's willing to have me."

Marth nodded.

"Willing and eager."

The blue haired man leaned back. His eyes were down from murder to a light stabbing.

"Robin, have you been coaching him? I swear, you said the exact same thing."

The rumpled man smiled.

"Chrom, if I was giving advice, they'd have been married already and communicating with you exclusively by carrier pigeon."

"That's not how I remember it."

"No. It's how I would have handled it with the benefit of more than a decade to plan. The first time, we were both a bit too busy to risk infighting."

Chrom shook his head.

"I knew I could trust you. I even gave you my blessing. I would have been glad if you'd been the one to coach him. It would mean he'd been vetted by the best possible judge."

"Other than the obvious one."

"You can't trust a woman in love, Robin. After all, that's how one of the most brilliant legal minds ever to grace Ylisse wound up married to an overgrown oaf who could hardly go a day without breaking something."

The proper looking woman in robes made a noise that fell halfway between an appreciative chuckle and an irritated hmph. The blue haired woman in the center just chuckled.

Robin shrugged.

"Alright. We're all much luckier than we have any right to be. I'm not going to argue the point. So, how much do we know about him? I assume you've gotten letters, and I _know _Morgan's already done three layers of background check since he got here."

"Four!"

Robin nodded at Morgan.

"Four. Unfortunately, I've been busy lately. I've let certain things get out of hand…"

The blue haired woman in the center smiled.

"Out of hand."

"I admit it, we managed to get things back in line before any real harm was done. But I should have seen it coming sooner."

"You found a conspiracy before it passed five members, addressed any legitimate complaints they had, neutralized…"

"I missed the evidence for six months. That's more than enough time for a disaster. But we're drifting off topic. My point was I don't know anything about him. And, well, he's…"

Morgan smiled more than usual.

"Marrying your wife!"

"Not how I would put it, but fine. Which brings me to my point. Chrom, Lucina, younger Lucina, would any of you object to me taking Ylisse's future prince consort out of the room for ten minutes to talk?"

Chrom smiled.

"I thought we weren't sure if he was good enough for my daughter."

"I thought you knew that once Lucina sets her mind on something, it WILL happen. That applies to both of them, just to be clear."

After a second, Chrom nodded.

"I suppose we do have some catching up to do. And I'm sure your wife has some stories she can only trust to herself about you."

Robin nodded back.

"Won't that be fun. So, Lucy?"

"Of course. You aren't jealous, are you?"

"Too old and too married to be jealous. Come on. There's a nice garden out back."

Aaron hesitated. There was too much going on that he didn't understand. Stories he'd never heard, jokes he'd never catch. And traps he'd never see coming. Walking away from witnesses and the people he was more or less sure he could trust seemed like a mistake. Then he saw Chrom again. The man was still staring daggers at him. Staying wasn't much safer.

He followed Robin out of the room and beneath the moon. It was a cold night for this far south. Aaron wished he'd grabbed a coat. Or anything, really. Marth would provide, but leaning on her kindness too much felt wrong. Robin nodded to him.

"So. Here we are. I remember before this garden was here. Different design, different walls. There was even a big hole right where you're leaning."

"This place was abandoned?"

"No. Chrom was clumsy. But war came, and the whole place was trashed. Maribelle, she was the judge in the robes back in the palace, well, she and I cooperated on the redesign."

"You didn't seem to agree on much."

"Not as such. But I figured out how to make this place more secure, and she made it look like a garden instead of a plant based deathtrap. We made a good team. When we weren't trying to strangle each other."

"This place doesn't look much like a deathtrap. No spike traps, no tigers."

"No, Maribelle made me cut a lot in the planning stage. But look over there."

Robin pointed at a small patch of flowers at the wall.

"Incredibly allergenic. Non-lethal, of course, but anything that breathes it in is going to be sneezing like a maniac. Pretty hard to be stealthy when you're suffering from hay fever."

"Okay…"

"It gets better. The crickets are normally fairly pleasant, right? But these are Valmese barking crickets. If they detect a surge of magic, they go _insane_. And any spells coming in from outside? Chon'sin drain weeds. They feed off most varieties of magic and release it as light. That's not even half of it, but I think you've got the idea."

"You're really proud of this."

Aaron tried to keep the pity out of his voice, with mixed success. If this was the best thing someone had done, well, it made him very glad that he had a real job. Robin laughed.

"It's ridiculous, I know. But Lucina loves it. Well, both of them do."

"Both of them."

"Oh, gods. How much has she told you? I thought Basilio or Flavia would have at least mentioned something. Then again, they're damn good at keeping secrets."

"I know that Marth is apparently the crown princess of Ylisse. I know that everyone here calls her Lucy or Lucina, which I'm guessing is her birth name. I know that a crazy woman at least her age and probably a good chunk older is running around claiming to be her daughter. And I know that someone else is named Lucina. If you're asking how I put any of that into a coherent whole, I don't."

"Right. Well, it was confusing enough for me, and I was at ground zero. I can only imagine how it looks to someone arriving decades later. How much do you know about time travel?"

"What?"

"The outrealm gates?"

"Never heard of them."

Robin sighed.

"This won't be easy. You know what? Just assume I said 'magic' to cover anything that seems odd. You… don't understand magic, right?"

"No."

"Good. That should make things easier. We might not be out here all night. So, to begin with… gods. I have no idea where to begin. There are two Lucinas. One's twenty years older than the other. I'm married to the older Lucina."

"Okay?"

"Good enough. What's important is, I've been where you are right now. And I can help."

"Okay. Why are you doing this?"

"Because it's in both of your interest that things go smoothly, and I owe her family everything. Take a seat and get ready. There's a lot for us to talk about. Do you have a notebook?"

"Why would I have a notebook?"

Robin stared daggers at Aaron.

"Why would you… I have a spare. Keep it. That's the first thing. Keep a notebook. This isn't Lucina specific. It's general life advice. Proper planning is one of the most important things, on the battlefield or off."

Robin pulled a small, blank book and handed it to the younger man.

"Alright. This is advice I wish I'd had when I was getting married. Don't question it. Don't interrupt. Just remember everything."

The next five minutes were a blur of advice, ranging from odd to confusing to _terrifying_.

"She doesn't get jokes most of the time. If it seems like there's a misinterpretation that could sound like an insult, keep it to yourself."

"Just remember. She can make almost anything she wears look gorgeous. She will also pick the _one thing _she can't make work for any formal occasion. Find a tailor you can trust and pay them enough to make sure that they'll NEVER leave."

"Don't ask how I found this out, but _nothing _gets her in a romantic mood like killing a few bandits. If you aren't comfortable doing… certain things… while covered in blood, explain that to her immediately, before it becomes a cherished couples ritual and you can't back out of it."

"Her favorite classical composition is 'Ode to a dying star'. If you can play any instrument… well, you're in a better position than I was that night."

Aaron's notebook was filled with sketches, tiny snippets of conversation, and question marks. Mostly question marks.

"And to wrap it all up… gods, we're the luckiest men in the world. Never forget that."

"I think I knew that already."

"Good. Well, that's all I had in the old man rambling department. And, unless I miss my guess, this is about a minute before the point where Morgan stops pretending to care about social graces, so we should get back inside."

Aaron paused and looked into the hall. That was life ahead. Rambling stories from lunatics, cushy royal postings instead of real work out in the wilds, and for what?

Then Marth walked past. Right. For her. If nothing else, Robin had been right about that. It was all worth it.

* * *

><p><strong>(Author's note: Well, if you're still here, that's the chapter. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, and that it met standards. Going a bit shorter this time, with only one story in the block, at a suggestion from the reviews. If there's issue with the change, I'd like to know. Point of putting work up is for others to enjoy it, after all.<strong>

**The basic idea going in was the younger Lucina dragging someone into the whole mess as an outsider, both for the levels of awkward it could bring to someone who didn't know about, well, the weirder parts of Awakening's events and to let the second Lu step out of her 'sister' 's shadow a bit. It tends to feel a little odd to me when the pairings repeat for the time travelers and their younger iterations. Different life experiences, different influences, and in some cases they'd grow up on different continents. Nature and nurture, of course, but I'd think the changes would show in their later lives, at least a little.**

**Of course, that left me having to add an outsider to the narrative, which can be... tricky business. Tried to have someone inoffensive for the viewpoint. Went with a name from Shakespeare for speed, figured Ferox would be a good place for the younger Lucina to crash her heels given the relevant epilogue, and here we are. ****Until next time.****)**


	8. The curious perils of notoriety

"And his last words were about his mustache. Who does that?"

"Kjelle, it's not our place to tell others what should be important in their lives."

"No… but gods it ruins a good fight to have the other person die saying something stupid. Was Walhart any better?"

Lucina nodded.

"I've never faced anyone so determined! I know I should feel… guilty about this. Lives are a precious currency, and people can't be replaced, but..."

"I know."

Kjelle stretched and rose to her feet.

"But the war's over. Has Chrom said how long we're helping with the reconstruction before heading home to make sure Grima never awakens?"

"A while. There's… plenty to do. I'm sure you could find something."

Before Lucina could clarify what something was, Cynthia stumbled in.

"Duh duh duh duh! The hero arrives!"

"Late, as usual."

"Aw, that was one time!"

"You got lost in the middle of a battle! If…"

Lucina glared at Kjelle.

"If you make that mistake again it could be a problem."

"Don't worry about it. Good always triumphs!"

Lucina coughed

"As pleasant as this is, do you remember why you came here? I'm sure Kjelle has important things she could be doing."

"Oh, yeah! Kjelle, you know what every hero needs?"

"Armor."

"Nope!"

"You win. I can't guess."

Unspoken subtext "Please go away". The please was a recent addition, but Kjelle was working on her manners.

"It's a surprise."

Kjelle grunted and turned to Lucina.

"I'm sure Robin needs…"

Unspoken subtext "Please don't make me spend time with Cynthia." A second please in one day. A new record.

"At the moment, mother has things well in hand. I'm sure she'd be happy to let you and Cynthia spend more time together."

"Thanks, Lucy! Come on!"

Cynthia dragged Kjelle behind her.

"Close your eyes."

"Why should I do that? A knight on a battlefield should have all her senses ready. Otherwise, she's as good as dead."

"But a hero has to give her enemies a fighting chance. Please?"

"Fine."

Arguing with Cynthia took forever. Indulging her, at worst, resulted in a few new scars. Kjelle was used to scars. They were quick. She closed her eyes and followed. Cynthia tripped and stumbled a few times, but Kjelle was able to keep her on her feet for most of the journey. And when she stopped, all Kjelle had to do was wait for the ta-da before she could remove her blindfold and be done with whatever stupid thing Cynthia was doing now.

"Ta-Da!"

Kjelle looked at the small town, and a cluster of people in the streets.

"What am I looking at?"

But Cynthia was in the middle of the crowd.

"I thought we had a banner!"

"Err… the thing of it is… that is…"

Oh. Oh gods no. Sweet, merciful Naga, guardian of all mankind, no. _Morgan_.

"Here it is!"

And it fell between two buildings.

"Kjelle's Squires!"

Naga had abandoned her, then. It was going to happen sooner or later. Everyone else had, why should a goddess be an exception?

Cynthia rushed back over.

"A real hero needs a fan club! It turned out a lot of people were really impressed with a 'lady knight' who fought off Walhart's best, so I told them who you were and… ta-da!"

"And Morgan helped."

"Uh-huh!"

Of course. Empty heads clanging together would naturally make something like this. It was bad enough when they were working on their own. That's how Morgan briefly became her squire and Cynthia… well, there were too many Cynthia 'incidents' to recount them all. This was going to be a nightmare.

"Cynthia, why did you think any of this was a good idea?"

"Morgan thought it was a good idea."

"And why did Morgan think it was a good idea?"

"Because it sounded heroic."

"And why did he think it sounded heroic?"

"Because I said it sounded like a good… idea."

"So, neither of you can remember who came up with it or why?"

"I guess not! It's that way with all really great ideas. I bet Naga sent it!"

Kjelle buried her face in her hands.

"I'll go talk to them."

Her armor clanked and clattered down the hill. She'd need to work on it as soon as this disaster was contained and out of her hair. If it was making noise, it could announce her position before she would. There might be honor in telling the enemy where you were and taking them on in a fair fight. There wasn't any in giving your position away to their ballistae before you could charge their lines.

"Morgan."

"Yes, boss!"

"I told you I needed a better squire than one scrawny armed princeling who couldn't carry me halfway to the medical tent if I was dragging myself."

"I know."

"Which is why you gave up."

And they were both better off for it.

"Which is why I thought about what mom would do. It's our bonds that bring us together, right? So if no-one was good enough to be your squire… maybe more than one would be."

"And how did Cynthia get involved?"

"I thought maybe if I practiced with someone less manly… I mean, err, not that you're not womanly, but…"

"Morgan?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"Shutting up."

Kjelle looked over the rest of the crowd. Mostly they were the standard peasant rabble that even _Morgan _could outfight. She'd been a real squire to a real knight when they were still hiding beneath their beds, and now they were trying for an imitation at the orders of the most pathetic excuse for royalty she'd ever knew how this worked. You tell them to run home. That the trouble was over, and they'd never matter. They'd just get in her way. She'd tried to train weaklings and cowards into something, but it never made a difference except missing time she could have spent training one of the few people she knew could get results. IE, Kjelle.

But then she looked down at Morgan again. Lucina had been mad enough the last time Kjelle told off her little brother, and that was with a good excuse. Not something she wanted to deal with again. If she could make Morgan quit on his own, then maybe that could be avoided. She nodded.

"So, you want to be squires? You want to see what it means to be a knight?"

Morgan nudged the girl nearest him. She jumped.

"Yes ma'am!"

"Then prepare for pain. A knight's life in training is constant misery. The greatest honor needs the greatest dedication. From now on, consider your lives my property."

The whole crowd shivered. Good. She was off to a fine start. Morgan nudged the girl again.

"Do we report to barracks, ma'am?"

"_Do_ you have barracks?"

"Yes sir, I mean ma'am!"

"Where are they?"

The girl gestured to one of the houses nearby. Kjelle marched in. It must have been evacuated when the first armies swept through. People must have expected Chrom to burn the whole place to the ground and do worse to anyone who wasn't smart enough to run. In other words, they were expecting bandits. She'd almost take it as an insult if it wasn't for the standards they must have come to expect from Walhart and company. Pitiful.

There was a bag of gold on the counter. Under it, she saw a note.

"Official tactician business use. Thank you. If this is too little payment, please write to…"

If she found stupid cute, she'd be making out with the little idiot right now. Unfortunately for him, mostly she found it tiresome.

The girl and Morgan followed her in. Morgan nudged her again.

"We…"

"Morgan, are you having someone else say whatever stupid thing is going through your head?"

Morgan tried to look innocent. Unfortunately, as innocent was his default state, any deviation stood out like a signal flare.

"You can talk again. Just don't say anything stupid. "

Kjelle hoped that it wasn't an oxymoron.

"I was going to show you the barracks. If that's okay ma'am!"

"Keep it quick."

Morgan nodded and walked upstairs. He gestured for Kjelle to follow. It wasn't what she expected. But maybe she should have.

The bunks were in keeping with royal standards, not civilian, let alone military. The curtains cost more than most of the house would have before Morgan started on it. Just looking at the beds was a better sleep than Kjelle had in months. Say what you like about Morgan, and Kjelle would join in given half a chance, but he knew how to make a room feel cozy.

"Morgan, you put a lot of effort into this."

"Yes ma'am!"

"Bring the… 'squires' in. They all need to see something."

Morgan smiled at his work as he left. When he was gone, Kjelle looked around the most comfortable room she'd seen in her life.

It had to go.

Morgan dashed back up the stairs with his new 'friends', smiling the whole time.

"They're here."

"Good. Now, you all see the work Morgan has done on this room."

She gave them a moment to soak in the ambiance.

"A knight doesn't need any of it. Every squire's first assignment is to dispose of this crap and build their own bed frame out of scrap wood. If I see one scrap of fabric when I come back, if I see one hint of softness, then you're all going to sleep outside."

One of the squires coughed.

"But ma'am… it's winter."

"And if this was Ferox, that might matter. I thought you wanted to be knights. That means no weakness. Anything that won't kill you you can endure."

"This winter could kill…"

"Vegetables. And not much else. Get to work. Now."

Kjelle left the room to moans of agony, complaints about the work and the expected conditions, and the same sort of whining that Sully always told her would come from the slackers that made up the bulk of any recruiting crop. Fine. The whole point was to make people drop out, and it seemed she was off to a good start.

By the time she returned, a good third of the group was gone. She didn't expect to see them again. She looked over the room and smiled. Every scrap of creature comfort was gone. Chrom wouldn't want to sleep here, and if you invited any other royal in, they'd hang you for treason and possibly attempted murder. It was a miserable hell of a room, and any recruits that could break would break here. Around the fringes, some of the 'squires' seemed broken already.

Then she looked in the center and saw Morgan. He was smiling. And saluting.

"Ready as ordered ma'am!"

"...Good work."

Morgan smiled more than Kjelle had ever seen him smile before. And considering that it was Morgan, that meant something.

"Everyone else, you can have three hours to sleep. Your training will begin before sunrise."

She waited for the groan. When it came, she continued.

"That's three hours more than you'll get for the rest of your training. Make good use of it."

Morgan coughed before the rest of the 'squires' could attempt a revolt. It didn't much matter, of course. She could put the lot of them down without straining her pinkie. But he had something to say that wasn't 'unfaiiir', so she might as well here it.

"Yes?"

"I prepared a bunk for you too, ma'am! I mean, if that's…"

Morgan closed his mouth without being prompted. It was almost like he was learning!

"Don't worry. I'm not sleeping in one."

Three.

Two.

One.

On cue, one of the younger recruits started muttering under his breath.

"I knew it. Nan told me about this. Enlisted sleep in the dirt. Officers get the fancy stuff."

Kjelle walked over to the wall in her armor. Leaned against it. Closed her eyes. And thought about just how wrong that idiot would feel in a few seconds.

She woke up exactly three hours later. No-one else was out of bed, which meant they were about to hate her even more than they already did, which meant it was an excellent way to kick off training.

"Rise and shine. This is a beautiful morning for a run!"

There were fewer people in the party at the end of the run than there were at the start.

The next few days were a blur of pain and irritation for everyone but Kjelle. Endurance exercises, pushups, situps, training with all the armor and weapons she could procure on short notice. Her squires weren't knights, by the gods most of them would never get close, but by the end? They were godsdamned SQUIRES. It was almost enough to forget the point of the exercise hadn't been met. Morgan was still there.

Well, he was a stubborn little idiot. That almost made sense. Everyone else, well, they didn't make sense. _They were peasants_. They existed to get pushed around by bandits or get in her way when she was pushing the bandits back. If one or two of them had the makings of a knight, that would just be the law of averages in play. When nearly half the group held on through all the hell she could think of? That probably meant something. She could try to puzzle it out through listening to whatever stupid things they said in their own time, of course. But that involved caring what they said on their own time. The alternative was just asking. On top of the obvious benefits, she'd already run out of other things to talk about. Robin only had so many team building speeches to steal, and her mother's motivational talks mostly consisted of swearing.

Kjelle tried a few of those. They just made Morgan curl up into a ball and whimper.

She stepped in front of the huddled, moaning mass of her squires.

"Good. One last question for the day, and maybe I'll let you sleep. What was this really about?"

Morgan rolled in Kjelle's general direction.

"Wow you're pretty…"

"Morgan, stop talking."

"And there are three of you?"

"Fine. Morgan, you can sleep _now_. Everyone else, answer the question."

"Thank you. Zzzzz."

He actually made that noise. Kjelle shook her head. How Morgan pronounced a series of "Z"s while sleeping was rather low on the mysteries of Morgan scale. It could wait.

"Answers. Now."

One of the girls staggered forward.

"We… like you?"

"That doesn't explain why you're taken six days straight of abuse."

"You do it to yourself all the time."

For a peasant, she was far too perceptive. Especially on that level of sleep.

"I'm a knight. If suffering meant anything to me compared to being a godsdamned knight, then I wouldn't be a knight. If I minded dying for what I believed in, I wouldn't be a knight. Too many of you have dropped out to believe this was all about honor, and too few have dropped out for me to believe you're doing this for fun. Answers. Now."

"We… needed you. Or, well, any knight."

Kjelle nodded.

"And, well, you were an army, and most of you wouldn't care about cleaning up after, but then this crazy blue haired boy ran around talking about how this beautiful knight went around helping anyone in need, and…"

"Gods. You shouldn't have listened to him."

The girl blushed.

"He was right about how good looking you were, anyway."

"And he was right I'll deal with whatever bandits were stupid enough to attack somewhere under Chrom's protection, but you could have asked. Get some sleep. I'll sort things out in the morning."

Kjelle shook her head. Lucina, for all her virtues as a leader, was making her too soft by half. Eight hours later, she revised the assessment. At minimum, she was too soft by three quarters.

She gave her squires _three hours _more sleep than she'd ever needed. And some of them were still in their bunks! Two years ago, she'd have tossed the lot of them out into the cold and given up on the whole thing. Six months ago, she stopped even trying to make Brady into a contributing member of the army for less. And here she was, almost indulging them.

"Get up. Today, we're putting your training into practice. Anyone who spends one more second in their bunk should get out of my sight before we come back if they like living."

Almost.

The whole group fell into position before she finished the sentence, and they were marching before anyone else in Chrom's army was out of bed. For the first time in her memory, Kjelle was glad she listened to Cynthia. At least this was something to do while waiting for negotiations and reparations to end. A little talk with her new clatter of assistants found her the bandit hideaway, and an hour's march took them to the cave.

Kjelle was not impressed. Even the rabble that fooled Cynthia had a better setup. She could leave this to Morgan and the rest. A real knight had better things to do.

"This is it? You're living in fear of these pathetic excuses for bandits?"

The bandits did not look like they agreed.

"Watch it, girl."

"Really? That's it? You can't even do threats right. I'll make things simple. This village is protected. There's a whole knightly order waiting in the wings, with a royal sponsor. Run, take up an honest life somewhere, and none of us will bother to hunt you down and kill you like dogs."

"Big talk."

"We can back it. You have 48 hours before we return. Use it."

"Oh, and I'm sure your high and mighty king cares about a few bandits. Even Walhart let some things slide, if you greased the right palms. What's the new administration gonna do?"

Morgan stepped forward.

"Err… we're going to tell you to leave again."

"Is that all? Who is this little brat?"

Kjelle shook her head. She'd promised royal backing. She had hoped she wouldn't need to show what royalty she had. Chrom and Lucina, they would have been fine. Even if they weren't the Exalt, they would have been knights, and damn fine ones. Emmeryn and Lissa, if they were around, might not be as martially minded, but at least they could speak with authority. Even Owain could, on very rare occasions, convince someone his idiotic rambling was the mark of a leader instead of the mark of an imbecile. But no. She had Morgan.

And now she'd have to try to make the best of it.

"That's Prince Morgan of Ylisse and a better man than you could ever dream of being."

"That's a prince?"

Kjelle had to admit the man had a point. She wouldn't have believed it either.

"Mom says I am. And she's almost always right."

Kjelle tried not to sigh.

"What matters is that, even if you could hold us off, he could send his father's armies here. They crushed Walhart. What makes you think you'd do any better? Come on. We're leaving."

Morgan trundled next to her.

"They didn't know who you were."

"They didn't need to. A knight cares about being the best. Once you are, the people who matter will know. Yelling about how great you are just looks pathetic."

"Right! And you don't want to give anything away. Mom always said that. The key to victory is…"

"Bonds. She's given me that speech. So has Lucina."

"I was going to say knowing something the enemy doesn't. But bonds work too! Still, we should check on them soon. Bandits aren't always trustworthy."

Kjelle considered gluing her gauntlet to her face. If she was going to spend much longer around Morgan, it would save a lot of time.

The rest of the day was standard. Drills. Training. Pushing every limit she had.

By the evening, she was tired and her squires were all at least three quarters dead. Life was good. It almost made up for the dreams.

They were the same every time, more or less. Oh, it might start in childhood, or training with her master, or with the Shepherds. But that was just flavoring. What mattered was that someone would say something wrong, and their eyes would go dark and they'd start moaning and shuffling.

Her mother, or Severa, or someone else that mattered would still be fighting. Whoever it was and Kjelle would be together, back to back. Holding the tide. Then Grima would arrive, and she wouldn't be strong enough anymore. Just a little too slow, a little too weak, a little too raw. Grima would attack the last person she had to care about and she'd have to watch it happen.

The only thing worth mentioning this time was that Morgan was the one who nearly made it to the end. And there were people screaming for him.

"MORGAN'S GONE!"

Why did they even bother? Some day she'd see that stupid wyrm again and show it she was strong enough now. Strong enough not to be afraid. At this point, the dreams were just irritating.

Grima was gone, and the yelling wasn't. Kjelle opened her eyes to see her squires running around like idiots. Odd. She was almost always the first one up.

"Morgan's…"

Oh.

"I should have known he couldn't handle it."

Brady broke. Yarne broke. Why should Morgan be different? She picked up a note outside the door and prepared for a litany of pathetic excuses.

"We have the prince! If Chrom wants to see his brat alive again BACK OFF."

Pathetic, but not what Kjelle was expecting.

"What do we do, what do we do?"

"First, you can stop embarrassing me. Then, I'm going to remind this scum why they should have tucked their tails between their legs when I gave them the chance."

Her squires didn't like this forced march any more than the last few times, but this time Kjelle saw more fear than exhaustion. Well, if they kept moving, she didn't care. They arrived at the cave in record time. Kjelle held up her hand. She could go in alone. She might not be the best scout, but her recruits were even worse.

Her armor was quieter than it ever was before. She'd meant to get around to fixing the squeak, but it seemed like it fixed itself while she was busy with Cynthia's inane pet project. Good old armor. If she couldn't trust anything else, she could rely on it.

A few bandits were talking deeper in. Kjelle paused to listen.

"He's still saying we'll never get away with it."

"Stupid little brat."

"What do you expect from someone idolizing knights? Dastards the lot of 'em. Walhart might have been a monster, but he was the real thing. Knights, they're soft. Kid talks about how his dad's nice, figure he's more of the same."

Robin would probably say that avenging an insult wasn't that important. Gerome would say to stay in the shadows. Lucina would put her brother's safety ahead of personal desires.

But they weren't here. Kjelle was.

"Dastards? I challenge both of you. Right now."

Both bandits turned.

"Kill her?"

"Read my mind."

Kjelle readied her lance. The first bandit charged. A lance wasn't ideal against an axe, but the bandit wasn't protecting his legs. Sweep, stab once to injure and once to finish, focus on the second enemy.

He didn't last much longer. Clumsy. Ill-disciplined. Unarmored. The only martial virtue between the two of them was one good axe.

Kjelle gave it a home in her pack. An honest weapon deserved better.

She continued deeper into the caves. A few bandits ran. A few died. It didn't make much difference which they went for. No-one seemed willing to lay down and surrender, so no-one was getting out alive.

She found the leader of the bandits near Morgan's cell.

"Shut up! I swear to whatever primitive gods you think are going to devour your soul that I will KILL YOU and deal with your father some other way."

"What about mom? She's pretty smart."

"Much smarter than you! I know! Not that it's difficult!"

Kjelle stepped forward. The man froze.

"Let him go."

"You weren't supposed to be here yet."

"And you were supposed to leave."

The bandit looked around the room.

"I expected more company. Ah, doesn't matter. Listened to the brat. I know how you knights think."

"Oh?"

"Bonds. Friendship. The power of teamwork. Makes me sick. But you're alone here, girly. None of your hiding behind others. No-one to help you."

Kjelle laughed.

"Did you believe that?"

"He said you said…"

"Crap I said to try to keep recruits in line. They just slowed me down."

"GUARDS!"

Five on one. If they were better, it might have been a fight. But Kjelle had been practicing. A large group could fall in on itself if the members weren't well trained. A few steps in the right place, and they were almost killing each other. She just helped them along.

Unfortunately, it distracted her from Morgan. And when she was able to look up again, there was a crossbow at his head.

"Don't do anything stupid, or the brat…"

"I offered you a chance at surrender."

"Yeah, well I didn't much like it then. I was earning a living here…"

"Preying on farmers and peasants."

"Circle of life! Well, death now, if you get much closer. See, I was just talking to the brat here…"

"I could kill you before you pull the trigger. Surrender, and I won't kill you."

"Yeah, like a king would just shrug off a guy taking his brat. I know how this works."

"Chrom might forgive you. I won't."

"Now, you can't be fast enough to stop me from pulling the trigger, so…"

He was wrong.

Kjelle wiped the blood from her lance and looked at the door to Morgan's cell.

"Hi Kjelle. Sorry."

"Sorry? SORRY? You get captured, nearly got yourself killed, and all you can say is sorry? Gods you couldn't have done a worse job if you tried."

"I didn't…"

"I don't care. I expect better from my squires."

"I know. I'll get ready to leave."

Morgan looked like a kicked puppy. Kjelle sighed.

Too soft by seven eighths.

"Which is why I'm going to work you twice as hard. Now where's the key?"

Morgan shrugged.

"I dunno. I picked the lock already."

"That's… impressive."

"I practiced being quiet by fixing your arm...or."

"Morgan. What have I said about my armor?"

Morgan gulped.

"Three times as much work."

"Yes ma'am!"

Kjelle sighed. She was covered in blood, just wasted hours of her life on fights that weren't even on par with a good sparring session, and even by her standards she was low on sleep. All that said… well, triple duty and Morgan wasn't running for the hills. He'd gone into danger without backing down. (or thinking it through, but that was more or less what she expected of him anyway.) Maybe she was wrong about him. After all, some weapons always needed a little more polish before they could shine.

Sentimental thinking, of course. But thinking of any kind was tricky when Kjelle was this tired.

She needed a hot bath and a little time alone. Minimum.

Really, this was what came of listening to Cynthia. She really should know better by now.

* * *

><p><strong>(Author's notes: So, chapter's done, even if they're coming in a little shorter these days. Don't have much to say about this one. Just thought Kjelle having a fan club could be amusing, and I hope my expectations on the front were correct. It was also a chance to write Morgan (M) without his counterpart around, and I have to say, I kinda like the guy. Not as much fun as Morgan(F) maybe, but he's earnest, a bit dim, and a hard worker, which plays well off Kjelle. Plus, it's nice not to rely on Cynthia every time I need someone to do something absolutely rock stupid. <strong>

**As always, hope you enjoyed the chapter, if there's anything that stood out as needing improvement let me know, and thanks for reading.)**


	9. Endings and what comes after

**Tharja: Tell me not I am unkind**

* * *

><p>"Of course, if we lose, there's no point in contingencies. But even if we win…"<p>

Robin sighed and looked over the room.

"The crowned heads of most of the world are here, and against Grima I can't promise perfection. There's going to be chaos enough already without a succession crisis. We need to have this in order. Now."

Basilio shook his head.

"I told you. Little sprog's always worrying! Ha! Don't worry. Raimi can keep Ferox in line until they have someone who can fit my chair."

Flavia glared at him.

"You mean my chair, oaf?"

"Just wait until next time."

Robin nodded.

"Fine. That's Ferox accounted for. There's a temporary regency system in Ylisse until Lucina comes of age, so no particular worries there, even if Grima somehow cut through four of the best warriors we have and still lost. Chon'sin and Valm in general are going to be issues… Tiki, I hate to do this, but I'm going to have to ask you to stay in a support position for this one. Someone needs to defend our long range firepower. Someone also needs to stay alive to keep Valm from falling into total anarchy. You're the only person qualified for both.

Tiki nodded.

"If it helps my friends, of course."

Robing nodded back.

"I'm glad we have an understanding. Moving on, we also have Plegia."

Robin took in a deep breath.

"I think I have a good claim for the throne, but… just in case… Aversa, I need you to endorse the claim for any relatives in play. IE, my wife."

He nodded towards Tharja. She glared back in silence.

"Not as good a claim as blood, but she'd run the throne behind Noire's back if I tried to say she was in charge, and Morgan's… Morgan."

Morgan's voice echoed out of the next room.

"I'd argue, but… you're pretty much right."

"And I'd say Morgan shouldn't eavesdrop, but…"

"A key part of any tactician's survival is finding as much information as they can get!"

"Exactly. Are there any objections?"

Aversa smiled. As usual, Robin wished she hadn't.

"Oh, I'm sure the commoners will love having a traitor as their queen, at the word of another traitor."

"And I'm sure I'll regret not killing you when I had the chance sooner or later, but for now, we're supposed to be family, and I'm not too proud to beg. Plegia needs a firm hand on the throne, and this is the best I can do on short notice. Now, unless everyone here WANTS to die horribly and let the world burn to ash, I need to retire to work on some strategies that might, gods willing, give us half a chance."

Robin grabbed a few pages of notes off a table, nodded, and left for his private tent. Well, his more private tent, the one with three layers of noise cancelling enchantment, five libraries worth of books, and a note on the door apologizing to Tharja that he would be too busy tonight for any… standard activities. He opened the flap, looked at his notes, and looked up to find Tharja staring at him.

"How stupid do you think I am?"

"I don't. Gods, I thought we'd had this conversation before. I think you're…"

"Then why are you lying to me?"

Robin stopped and ran through his recent conversations with Tharja, before going back to something even more basic. This tent had wards. Many wards. What Miriel once called an "intemperate allocation of magical capital and general wherewithal" once she was done gasping. No-one should have been able to get in without his direct permission. His own wife shouldn't have been able to disturb him.

And there his wife was. Disturbed as ever.

"Weren't there… wards?"

"I dealt with them. Obviously, you didn't mean for them to apply to me, so I helped you fix your mistake."

"...Thank you."

"It was simple."

Robin coughed. He wasn't that lucky. He never would be that lucky. But maybe with a few seconds of distraction…

"Well, again, thank you, but I have things to plan for. You know that, given a choice, I'd be spending almost all my time with you, but there's more important things than our happiness."

Tharja glared at Robin.

"You've made that clear."

"When?"

"Today. You're going to kill yourself. For Lucina."

Robin stepped back.

"WHAT?"

"Don't play dumb. I heard your little conversation with… Naga. She wants you to die so that the world can be hers, and you're going to lie down and do it. If Grima doesn't kill you first."

"Chrom made me promise not to throw my life away. He believes me…"

"And he's an idiot. I know you better than he does."

"Why would I want to die? I'm married to the best woman in the world. I have two loving daughters, with a third on the way."

"Because we aren't as important to you as Lucina's precious future. Because you feel guilty and whenever you feel guilty the first person you latch onto can do whatever they like with you."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because I've done it! And now you must be tired of me. So tired that you'd throw your life away."

Robin stepped back again, and took a breath.

"Even if I wanted to do what you're accusing me of, I wouldn't be throwing my life away. Killing Grima would be as good a death as I could ask for."

"Oh, a hero's death."

Robin paused and nodded.

"Well, yes."

"Like all the heroes who died fighting to protect Plegia. In case you didn't notice, I didn't like dying then."

"And I'm glad you didn't! But this isn't your life we're talking about."

"No. It is."

"It would be my…"

Tharja stepped forward.

"Which you promised to me. Or is the lowborn traitor not important enough for you now that you're royalty?"

"No, of course not! Gods, I don't… every…"

"Or do the little people stop mattering when you're a god? Because I don't remember Naga saying anything when Chrom's father was murdering his way through Plegia."

"Noire wouldn't like you saying that about…"

" I thought I was marrying someone with a spine, and now you're hiding behind Noire."

"Well, maybe if you let her stand on her own, she'd surprise you!"

"Or maybe she'd die. I thought I could trust you and look where that got me."

"In an argument over nothing. Because…"

"Because you're about to lie to me."

Robin closed his eyes. Sighed. And nodded.

"I was about to try. Gods, you do not make it easy."

"No. Because if I found out you were lying to me, I'd have to kill you myself."

"And then I'd be just as dead as if I kill Grima. I can't see how what I'm planning to do is much worse."

"They're different."

"I don't see how one kind of death is worse than another."

"If I had to kill you, then you wouldn't have been worth caring about in the first place."

"And if I die saving the world, and giving you, Morgan, and Noire a legacy to be proud of?"

"Then the most important person in the world just threw his life away."

"Maybe that's why I'm important! Maybe that's the only reason I lived this long! To have a chance to make up for all the horrible things I did!"

"Like our daughters?"

"They're… the exception. I know what I'm meant to do. I know what I'm going to do!"

"Orphan and widow people you claimed mattered. Or is Chrom more important to you?"

"It doesn't matter who's most important. I'm doing this for everyone."

"Good. I'll just tell Morgan that you're abandoning her for her own good. And next time Noire runs off crying with no-one soft enough to bother with comforting her, that's for her good. I'm sure I'm better off alone. What kind of cackling witch would be respected if someone bothered to love her?"

"You have a family here."

"Oh, good. Family. My family was stupid enough to believe in the Grimaleal doctrine, no matter what I said. So, because you took the Fire Emblem, they had their souls devoured."

Robin narrowed his eyes.

"Don't even try it."

"Don't try what?"

"The dead family sympathy play. A month ago, I might have nodded and let you sway me from what I have to do. But I buried a sword in my father's heart past the hilt. My knuckle still has a scar from where I splintered his rib cage. Don't even try to guilt me with that."

"Because you're too busy feeling sorry for yourself to think about anyone else's pain."

"Because we're past the point where it does any good! I want to protect what family I have left and I'm not sure I can find the strength to do it if I spend five seconds thinking about what I have to do for it!"

"So don't. Let Chrom steal the glory."

"You've seen as many battles as I have. I don't think either of us has seen a speck of glory. Gods, I don't know what I'd do with it if I found any. Give it to Kjelle?"

"So people a thousand years from now matter more to you than your family."

"Did you ever think what I'd leave you with if Grima was still alive? Every single cultist, every maniac who still worshipped a god that nearly burned the world would be after you, and Morgan, and Noire, and any grandchildren and great grandchildren we're lucky enough to have. And that's just the start! You think you've been a pariah? Imagine what Morgan's life is going to be like when everyone knows her blood is going to lead to the end of the world."

Tharja smiled.

"Do you remember what happened to the last people to insult Noire?"

"Yes, and it wasn't how I would have handled things."

"It worked."

"Great! Now can you do that every day for centuries to come? I've read history. Hell, I've read Sumia's favorite trashy romance novels, and that was enough to tell the story. If a dark god MIGHT come back, and there's someone to blame, they will be blamed. Chrom might be able to keep things in line for a while, and Lucina might keep them a little longer, but sooner or later it's all going to fall apart."

"So you want to make it sooner."

Robin slumped against the canvas of the tent.

"I'm giving what I have and hoping it's enough. And it's all up in the air anyway. I give us one chance in five of making it through. Worse if I even try to keep everyone alive."

"Which you will."

Robin smiled for a second. Or at least, his mouth smiled. His eyes didn't notice.

"I'm a man of habit. I can't change now. Do and die, one way or another."

Tharja stared at him. Then, after a few seconds, she smiled.

"Or I could just hex you."

"You could."

"A little blood, a few words, and you'd be mine forever."

Robin slumped a little more.

"I'm not arguing with that. I don't have enough drive to fight it off. There's nothing in the world I want more than to stay with you and Noire and Morgan. Three years, and I haven't even scratched the surface."

"Just a few ingredients…"

Robin looked up.

"I know you can. Which means I need you to listen. If you love me… if you ever loved me, you won't."

"I'm saving your life."

"You'd be damning me. Every day, I'd wake up knowing what I should have done. Every day, I'll look at the mark in Morgan's eye or on Noire's back and know the hell I left them because I couldn't do what they needed from me. Every day, I'll break a little more, because we'll both know what I should have done, and that I couldn't do it. And every night, I'll pray to Naga for the death I deserved years ago."

Tharja stopped.

"You're lying."

"You said it yourself. You would have killed me if I was. I'm telling you what would happen."

"But I'd still have you."

"And you're the only one who can tell me if that would be worth it."

Five seconds passed. Ten.

Then Tharja walked towards the entrance to the tent.

"I'm never going to forgive you for this."

"I understand. And, if I get the chance after all of this, I'll spend my whole life trying to make up for it."

"If."

"There was a chance. Even Naga didn't rate it very highly, and she's the closest thing to an authority we had, but she said there was a chance, if the ties that held me to the world were strong enough, if there was more of, well, if you and Morgan and Nore and Chrom held more of me than Grima, I might be able to come back."

Tharja turned towards Robin.

"Why didn't you tell me that first?"

"Well, you didn't offer me much of…"

Robin gulped.

"I didn't want to give you false hope?"

"You're saying that if you live or die comes down to whoever wants you most. An overgrown lizard with delusions of grandeur. Or me."

Tharja smiled.

"No-one wants you more than I do."

"I'm glad to see you're confident."

"Of course, that's no reason to ignore an opportunity to be… even closer."

Robin looked around the room.

"You know, I was supposed to be planning. Since we're all going to be fighting for our lives. And…"

"You said I was your muse."

Robin looked at the table. The books and maps were already on the floor. Tharja was getting ready next to it.

Somehow, most of their arguments seemed to end this way.

Well, he'd probably die tomorrow, and he had thirty pages of strategies written out already. No point in ignoring what was in front of him.

* * *

><p><strong>Funeral Oration<strong>

* * *

><p>It was raining.<p>

Lucina noticed the rain more than anything else. It was the one difference between the landscape around her and the world of her childhood. No plants. No sun. The smell of death. If it wasn't for the rain, it would feel too familiar for comfort.

She looked around. None of the others felt it. Not that there were many people. Robin. Aunt Emmeryn. A few gravediggers. And a hooded priest. Not much of a funeral. Robin was standing over the grave, holding his notes and stumbling through the end of his speech.

"He was a friend. And… he will be missed."

He stumbled back towards Lucina, muttering.

"A barfight. A godsdamned barfight. He tries to do the right thing… damn."

"You can't blame yourself, dear. He made his own choices."

"He dug his own damn grave and I was too blind to see it. And look at this. Three guests at a funeral. Even a bad king… even a bad man deserves someone to remember him."

Which is why her husband dragged her along to this farce. Well, Gangrel was dead and even odds the world was better off for it. Lucina had no love for the man, not after all he did in her past and when she returned. She came here for Robin, who was a far better man than he gave himself credit for if he'd spare a second's thought for that dog. She'd give him a little more time, then they'd push a little dirt on the grave and forget this whole affair.

But Emmeryn walked up to Lucina before the time was done. Gods only knew why she was here. That monster cost her as much as anyone. She was dead before Lucina was born the first time, and Lucina barely had time to meet the woman her father had almost worshipped before Gangrel broke her. A good person would be expected to take vengeance. The truly great could extend mercy, but giving the man life was mercy enough. Attending the funeral was… well, father had said Emm was kinder than he could ever be. It seemed he was right.

"Say… something."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know the man."

Emmeryn _glared_. Lucina almost stepped back. She didn't know her aunt's eyes did that.

"Say… something."

Lucina turned to Robin.

"I would just have old stories and what you passed on. Tell her."

"I think she's not going to back down. She didn't for Chrom, she didn't for me. And, no offense, but we had better arguments."

Lucina sighed.

"All I have are insults."

"Who's going to object? Emmeryn asked you, so she can't complain when you're honest. I paid the staff a damn sight too much for them to say anything. And I'm sure the deceased would want someone to be honest."

Lucina sighed again, and walked towards the grave.

"I… didn't really know Gangrel. We never talked in camp. I never spent much time with him. My husband said he wanted to be better. Robin is an honorable man, and I believe… he believed that was true."

Lucina took in a breath. Let it out.

"But I knew of him. He died not long after I was born, the first time. I heard stories from my father about him. He was… is..."

The present tense was still a novelty when discussing her parents. Lucina wasn't sure if she'd ever lose the pleasure.

"one of the best, kindest, men in the world. Gangrel was the only man he _hated_."

Lucina hated him too. Cynthia, Owain, they had trouble adapting to the past at first. Seeing people kill each other, seeing man's inhumanity to man, it was a shock. Owain told her about the first time he killed a man, how he'd hardly slept for days. The shaking hands, how food had no flavor. Lucina had nodded. She let him assume that she'd been the same way, had the same trouble.

The first man she killed was a bandit, on the border of Ylisse and Plegia. She heard him say he was working for Gangrel… and it came easy. No guilt, no doubt. Just a man dead on the ground and the satisfaction of a job well done.

"Father's stories of him were how I knew what evil was. When Grima came, of course, everything changed. It was easy to forget how vile your fellow human could be when you all had no choice except to stood together against the dark. I… never told anyone else the stories. Gangrel was a private devil. And he was gone with the rest of the old world. I never thought any of it would come back."

Lucina tapped her foot.

"When we were able to come here… he was everything I expected. I would have killed him in a heartbeat, if I'd had a chance. The day he died was one of the happiest in my life."

When he supposedly died. Lucina saw her father stab Gangrel where his heart should have been, watched from the shadows as a priest dragged his body away for whatever accursed rites the Grimaleal practiced.

It wasn't Chrom's fault the man was a gifted actor. It wasn't her father's fault the man's heart was on the wrong side. It was Lucina's fault that she didn't follow to see that the man was really dead, but _someone _had to summon a few Risen to kill Chrom in the middle of his victory, and keeping those from interrupting Chrom's marriage proposal was enough work for anyone.

"That was the end of it. Years came and went. I married the most wonderful man in the world. Had a daughter. Fought in the largest war the world had seen in centuries. Even if I wanted to think on that worm again, I would have been too busy."

Those were remarkable times. One day could be almost perfect. The next everything would come crashing down. Lucina had been used to decay, to hope as defiance more than anything else. A world where hope almost seemed… reasonable was a change, and not always for the better. The more you had, the more you could lose. And when… well. She and Robin both had a lot to apologize for before it was all over.

And then Grima returned and there was no time for anything but running and fighting. Robin had ideas, of course. He always did. Drawing Grima to a pirate city. They would put up enough of a fight that Grima could be delayed and the Shepherds could escape to the Dragon's table. It was trading lives for time, but at least it wouldn't be innocent lives, or the lives of anyone under Chrom's command. In the long run, it might even save lives, removing a bandit threat like that.

She remembered Robin's eyes the night he suggested it. Red. He didn't sleep much, in those days. Didn't talk much. Never looked at Morgan except to issue orders. Never talked to her except when she forced the issue.

"And then... we passed the Sea-king's throne."

That was the real risk. Grima needed to see them pass through for long enough to attack, long enough to bait the pirates into war, which meant doing a little fighting themselves. Tired, underequipped, and unsupported, with half their number scattered across the world to find _anything _to help in the fight.

Lucina was glad Morgan was away then. That at least her daughter was safe. Of course, when she found out where Morgan actually was at the time, that turned out to be… inaccurate. But it was a relief at the time.

"My father made an offer that day. Anyone who surrendered and aided us against Grima would be given a full pardon. Only one man accepted, and even then, only at the point of a blade."

Lucina didn't see any of it past the first offer, of course. She was busy staying alive, and keeping Robin in the same condition. She still had the scar from an arrow that would have killed him. It was the only time she'd seen her husband that… sloppy.

"Gangrel. A man we all thought was dead. I was sorry to see we were wrong."

She never said so to his face. He was one of them now, for good and ill, and that meant she would treat him with respect. No more than the minimum, perhaps, but it was still an effort.

And Robin made her efforts look like nothing in comparison. She managed to treat Gangrel like a human being. Robin was his friend.

"He served with us in the last battles with Grima and the Risen. I knew him more by stories from my husband than anything I saw myself. From what I heard he was a broken wreck of a man. I couldn't hate him. That was more effort than he was worth."

Robin told her stories, most nights. Talked about good intentions and bad results, mistakes and folly, how his father had made everything worse when it was primed to go bad already. Talked about guilt, and moving past it to try to do something constructive. There were only a few weeks between the sea king's throne and the final battle with Grima, but Robin seemed to know the man's entire life in that time.

"The last day I saw him was the day Grima fell. Naga only knows why he was one of the soldiers she chose to fight the dark god, but he was fearless. Even the bravest of us held back from time to time, considered our own safety. He only thought about clearing the path."

That and holding Chrom back. Distracting him to make sure Robin could deliver the killing blow. That made three people who knew the plan. He was a good choice. The last person Chrom would want to talk to, and the last person who could reveal anything.

"At the end, when my husband was… gone, was the only time we talked. He… said the wrong man died. And that he was sorry for all of it. I believe he meant it."

She cleared her throat. She'd been too busy to bother with any followup. She had a daughter to look after, reconstruction efforts to assist, and rumors to chase for the last year. Miracle after miracle, so much good that she didn't dare hope for. Why would she ruin it by chasing after a broken thief?

"I suppose that's all I can say. Gangrel was never a good man. He committed actions anyone would be hard pressed to forgive. But in the end… he knew the truth about himself. And he wanted to make things right. I can't be sorry he died. I can regret that he died before he could set things right. May whatever god takes his soul grant some measure of peace."

Lucina walked towards Robin. He nodded. Neither of them said another word. The coffin went into the ground. Dirt covered it. The priest muttered a few words, and it was all over. The priest and the pallbearers took a few coins for their trouble and left. After a few more moments, the party from Ylisse turned to walk back towards the nearest village.

Robin turned towards Lucina.

"Thank you."

"I didn't have many kind things to say."

"Gods know no-one else did. I knew Gangrel about as well as anyone did, well, anyone who survived the Plegian war. If he wrote the eulogy, it would have been much less complimentary."

"I think you said as much when you were writing your speech."

"Did I mention how much cruder it would be?"

"I think Morgan was in the room at the time."

"I'll take that as a no. Well, trust me. It would have been something else. I just wish I could have done more."

"You were a good friend to him. I think he'd admit he was given better than he deserved."

Robin looked up at the sky and smiled.

"Not like he's the first."

* * *

><p><strong>Dark god in Repose<strong>

* * *

><p>"Trust me, you'll love it."<p>

The blue haired woman smiled across the table. Her companion's pointed ears folded.

"You say that about everything, Morgan."

"And sometimes it's true! It's called a cafe. I guess you were asleep when they started popping up everywhere. Time flies, huh?"

Nah sighed.

"I don't sleep that much. I was hardly out for six months last time."

Morgan smiled.

"Only six months. Your sister never goes longer than three weeks."

"She's managing a country. I'm helping the voice of a god hold onto her last connection to the world. It's a little more stressful!"

"You should try being a god. Much easier."

"Morgan…"

Morgan's smiled broadened. Her eyes glistened.

"HEY EVERYONE! I JUST SAVED YOU ALL FROM THE WRATH OF MORGAN, GOD OF EVIL AND DESTRUCTION! BE GRATEFUL."

Every eye in the room turned. First to the yelling psychotic, then to the apprentice to the Voice. Then back to Morgan. No one moved closer. A few people backed away.

"I hate when you do that."

"I know. But think of it this way. If I indulge myself by being a little irritating, that means I'm not indulging myself by ending the world."

Nah shook her head.

"I can't go anywhere with you, can I? Did I miss anything else while I was out?"

"Not… much. I had another funeral. I forget how many greats came before grandson. State thing."

"It never gets…"

"It does. It really, really does. I mean, it gets numb-er too, but I've gotten through it being the worst thing ever, to being numb, to being numb being horrible, to, well, now. It's not anything anymore. I mean, I miss him and everything, but…"

She shrugged.

"Even if I remember him, I'll get over it. "

Both women were silent for a few moments.

"Geeze. Sorry to be such a bringdown, Nah. So, I should probably think of something else to get us moving again."

"If you need time…"

"I really don't. Well, I don't need that kind of time. I get enough of it from other people. Time with my best friend is rare enough it should be spent on something less… sad and boring. Oh! How's Tiki? Any gossip? We're supposed to be archenemies. I could plot something!"

"She's been sleeping longer. And longer. It's hard to get her to pay attention to the waking world."

"Oh. That doesn't seem to be much of an opportunity to, well, plot."

"I think we'd be halfway to resurrecting Grima before she'd pay much attention these days, if I wasn't around. Gods, it's exhausting."

"It sounds like it. And while she sleeps, you do all the work. Wait. I had an idea."

"Is it having someone do all your work for you?"

"What? No! Look into these eyes. They're innocent of all deceit and guile! These are the eyes of an honest woman."

"Those are the eyes of a complete lunatic!"

"An honest complete lunatic."

Nah smiled.

"Usually."

"Right. Here's my idea. You've seen… problems, right? I mean, I have. Every few hundred years someone tries to resurrect a dark dragon to burn the world for some reason."

Nah winced.

"Lady Tiki says they succeed every few thousand. The world nearly met its end more than once. If we fail to remember the wisdom of the past, lose our connection to Naga and the fight to protect all life, then… well, your father ended Grima."

"He didn't talk about it much. I think it scared him. What he had to do."

"He never said anything to me."

"Or to Mark. Or younger me. He talked about it with mom and grandpa a little. And me a little more. I don't think he would have wanted me to talk to anyone else about it. And it's not important right now. Since, well, Grima's not the only dark god ever, right?"

"As long as there is evil in the hearts of man. At least, that's what most of them said as they died."

"Well, that's probably what I would say too. I mean, if you can't get any real revenge on someone, you can at least make them a little uncomfortable."

"Maybe."

"I'm pretty sure I can guess what I would say, Nah."

Nah shook her head.

"Morgan."

Morgan smiled again.

"Anyway, if they keep coming back, that usually means someone brought them out. Which takes a lot of time. I mean, you need to get a lot of human sacrifices, you need to organize rituals, you need ancient sacred artifacts. It's not easy."

"Which is why we find them before they can do anything."

"Only they're getting smarter every time. And you need to sleep, you can only see so many places, and everyone knows you'll be looking for them. You're second only to The Voice. It doesn't make it easy to hide. I mean, even aside from your sister being the most recognizable person in the world. Who looks just like you."

"Does any of this have a point?"

Nah's voice didn't even hint at anger. She'd spent too long around Morgan for that. It was simply a question. The tangents varied from intricate strategies to, well, stupid and meaningless tangents. Without asking, it was had to tell in advance.

"Oh yeah. The problem is, they're going to find another dark dragon someday, and then we'll have to find heroes, and then a lot of people are probably going to die. Which neither of us wants."

"I know."

"Which is why we make sure they find one!"

"Morgan, is this one of the times where you have a good idea, or is this another Plegian Fish Crisis?"

"...I think it's the first one. And the fish thing would have worked out if I had a few more years to work on it."

"No. It wouldn't."

"It was pretty funny either way. Man, the look on the Exalt's face..."

Nah coughed.

"The plan?"

"Right! So. I lay low for a century or two. You let rumors spread in the church about a blue haired monster with the mark of an ancient evil. Now, let's say you're evil and planning to destroy the world. Do you go looking through hundreds of ancient scriptures, or do you just look for the guarantee? Hint. They're going to do the one that's a trap."

"A century or two?"

Morgan's smile faded.

"The last grandkid I had who talks to me died three months ago. I didn't have much else to do. Valm's safe with you, Ylisse is safe with other Nah. And I'm bored. You have your mom, and your sister, and Tiki. I just have you."

"Morgan…"

"It's fine. It's more than enough, really. But it means I can take some time to avoid boredom if it helps my best friend. It'll be like old times."

"Old times were you hitting me in the head with a book. Over and over."

"We really had fun."

"I really had bruises."

"The important thing is, I helped you out then."

"I don't remember it that way."

Morgan shrugged.

"Well, I can help this time. We can exchange coded messages. Keep in touch. And when the time is right, snap goes the trap, and the world is safe."

Nah smiled.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Centuries of your life…"

"I was born to a dark god. I have to live up to expectations somehow."

* * *

><p><strong>(Author's notes: Well, here we are, at the conclusion of another installment. Might even be the last one for 2014, considering the season. Hope it's not ending on a low note, at least.<strong>

**As for the individual stories:**

**Tell me not I am unkind: I hadn't done anything with Tharja and Robin together. The thing that struck me about that particular relationship is, well, how far it was from Lucina and Robin (Which, I admit, I've got a certain fondness for). Lucina and Robin have a whole "Could not love thee, Dear, so much, loved I not honour more" thing going on. They're crazy for each other, sure, but a big part of their affection is based on the fact the other puts the good of the world ahead of their own happiness. Tharja, on the other hand, seems to go full steam in the opposite direction, with a very... possessive attitude towards Robin.**

**Which made me think of the sacrifice ending. Lucina, it's easy to see how that talk would go. Nobody'd be happy, maybe, but they'd agree what had to be done. Tharja didn't strike me as the type to put people a thousand years on ahead of a relationship in the present. Thus, this. Haven't tried to write for Tharja much, and I hope I did alright.**

**Funeral Oration: There were a couple ideas in play here. The first was simpler. Gangrel's supports with the male Avatar make a fairly nice series, moving from depression to embracing his second chance at helping his people. Nice and upbeat. Then the ending comes, and it's casually mentioned he probably died alone and unloved in a gutter. The second was considering Lucina's upbringing. In the game timeline, Chrom took Emmeryn's sacrifice as an incentive to try to be more peaceable, to offer a second chance. On the other hand, where Lucina's from, she died to a knife in the back and the war with Plegia presumably went for a few more bloody years. Lucina's father still seemed to be a good man, but he'd probably have a few less regrets about using excessive force, and a few more curses for the mad king's grave. Brought them together, and this came out.**

**Dark god in repose: Simpler idea still, I'm afraid. It started with the first law of thermodynamics. Now, it doesn't always apply to stories about magic, but Grima dying would have to have a major impact on the world. I mean, the consciousness is clearly destroyed, but the energy might not be. Path of least resistance would be to Robin, but they're sort of dead at the moment. Morgan wasn't, and there was no mention of a mark of Grima vanishing from them. And, well, Grima couldn't die to anything but Grima...**

**So, that was the set. Hope you enjoyed, if there's anything that stood out for good or ill feel free to point it out, and thanks for reading this far.)**


	10. Flowers in the snow

Chrom stood before a solid wood door in Castle Ylisstol and sighed.

This was supposed to be the easy part. The nobles and officers, they were supposed to be the problem, doubting him and attacking his decisions at every turn. Meanwhile, the man behind the door? That was just asking his best friend in this gods-damned world to come to a party.

But the nobles had to ruin their end by being all for the war hero and heir to take the throne, the sooner the better. Meanwhile, getting his tactician to take in an ounce of fresh air was taking all day.

"Robin! If you don't open the door, I swear by Naga and any other god at hand I am going to break it down, so help me!"

The door creaked open and a hand darted back. Chrom stepped inside.

The floor was crammed with papers and notebooks. Chrom glanced at some of them.

"Plegian war plans"

"Peasant uprising countermeasures"

"Valm Invasion"

"Valm Invasion plan: Naval (IMPORTANT: GET BOATS SOMEHOW!)"

Chrom coughed. He knew his friend had been busy, but this seemed… questionable.

"Robin?"

"Chrom! I'm sorry that I didn't open the door. I've been busy for the last couple of hours. Working on strategies."

"Couple of hours? How long do you think you've been in here?"

"Well, I saw Lucina being born, so… since yesterday?"

"It's been a _week_, Robin."

Robin looked around.

"Oh."

"You should wash up at some point. Gods, this is a mess."

"I just wanted… you said you… I had some ideas. They might have spiraled a little."

"Is this about what we should do if… Sully's cooking formed an army and rose against humanity?"

"Maybe. The last few nights are a blur."

Chrom sighed. His tactician had been one of the only people in the war he could trust to stay more or less sane. And now this.

"The nobles are holding a ceremony to accept the handover of power and pretend most of them didn't fall like a stack of cards when Plegia invaded. I need people I can trust."

"Please say I'm not going to be the only one."

"All the Shepherds will be there. Flavia even allowed Lon'qu and Olivia a leave of absence for the ceremony. And the ball after."

"Wait. There's a dance?"

"I'm not any happier about it than you are."

Robin grimaced.

"At least you have a crying infant as an excuse when things go wrong. And you're spending an evening with your (lovely) wife, whereas I'm going to stand alone in a corner."

"Take Lissa, then."

"Gods. This day keeps getting better."

"She doesn't have anyone to go with, it's a position of honor, and she likes you. There's a lot of worse people to spend time with."

"If you like having frogs dumped in your hair, I can't think of anyone better. I'll get cleaned up."

"Thank you. It will mean a lot to her."

Chrom walked out of the room, and Robin shoved a pile of notes off his desk. No point in obsessing, judging from the current crop of plans. He'd failed his best friend. He'd fail again, odds were. But spending his entire life in this room wouldn't help with it.

Shave. Wash. Blast the robe with a little wind magic to clean it off to presentable status. Thank whoever was listening that the thing didn't carry any odors or stains no matter what he did to it.

He looked at the table. Not clean. So, really, another few strategies wouldn't hurt…

Three hours later, he had a fifty page article on the applications of wind magic. It was a relief when Lissa came into the room.

She was in a beautiful dress. And normally, Lissa was a pleasant looking girl. In theory, this should have been a moment out of one of Sumia's trashier novels. The male lead sees the girl he's been ignoring romantically in a formal dress, sees how beautiful she is, and things go about how you would expect from there.

Those novels had never met Lissa. It felt wrong that the most gifted tailors in the land, working with a pleasant and upscale budget, would make something that took away from a girl's natural appeal, but there you were. Some people just weren't meant to look formal.

Robin shuffled to his feet.

"Lissa! I'm sorry about… I got distracted by… Look. Just promise you don't have any poor unfortunate amphibians with you and we can get to the thing."

"I don't have any frogs with me, Robin. I don't see why you're worrying. *snort*"

"You snorted. Right now. Drop the frog. Let it run off and live a happy frog life."

"What frog?"

Robin looked at the ground. Something hopped away.

"Ah. My mistake. Chrom asked me to escort you. I haven't done a very good job so far. I guess I assumed Maribelle would do my job for me."

He smiled.

Lissa looked around the room.

"You did all of this?"

"I had some time."

"Geesh! And I thought Frederick needed to learn how to relax."

"I can relax! You just never see it because you keep ruining it with frogs!"

Robin cleared his throat.

"Err, we should get going. There's a ceremony, right?"

The pair reached the audience chamber of the palace without incident. Robin looked over the audience. It was mostly nobles in their finest. He saw Maribelle with her family, Ricken and his, and scores like them.

It made him stand out. Greatcoats weren't the standard attire, even ignoring the combat boots. Fortunately, he wasn't alone. A young looking girl in scales, a woman with rabbit ears and armor, a pig farmer who looked it, a shirtless man flexing any time anyone looked in his general direction.

The Shepherds. Robin smiled. The best comrades a man could have. Not the best people for a formal political event that mostly consisted of polite half truth, but they kept him from falling asleep. Especially Tharja. Just keeping out of her view was a full time job.

Oh gods, she was looking at him. Robin ducked. Lissa snorted. Lissa could do what she wanted. She didn't have a psychotic stalker.

Really, he'd been a little proud of the whole thing at first. A beautiful woman more interested in him than anyone else in the army? Well, it was nice.

Then the stealing locks of hair, the watching him sleep, the 'love poems', and the rest started. About that time, Robin decided they should see other people. Or at least, he should get as far out of Tharja's eyesight as possible. It was hell on his theoretical dating life, but at least he still had a life, period.

After a few moments, he sighed. She was looking away. He could breathe again.

Other than ducking Tharja, the whole event passed without incident. Chrom tried his best to maintain the dignity of the ceremony, the new hierarch was anxious enough about the circumstances of his promotion to avoid making things awkward, and anyone with doubts was close enough to a Shepherd to keep them to themselves.

"And thus by the grace of Naga, Holsety, and Yudu the one-above-all, I proclaim Chrom of Ylisse fit to rule in his sister's stead."

Robin stood and clapped with the rest of the crowd. His best friend was king now, for all practical purposes. Assuming another year or so could pass without incident, the acting heirarch would be the actual heirarch, and Chrom would be the Exalt. Nice and neat.

"So, it's over?"

"Yes, Lissa. It's over."

"Which means you're taking me to the dance."

_Crap_.

"I suppose it does. No frogs? Wait. Don't answer that."

Lissa just smiled.

Robin winced.

"I shouldn't have asked. Let's see. For the appointment, it's...reverse standard order of procession. Chrom and Sumia first, then the next heir and his or her escort. That's us. Come on."

"You mean immediately?"

"Yes."

"Oh. That's fine!"

Robin decided not to ask any questions. They slid down to the ballroom, waited through Chrom and Sumia's first dance to something on the harp, and stepped on the floor. Lissa had two left feet, but Robin felt like he had three rights. There wasn't much to praise for either party. It was a relief when the rest of the floor filled and left them far from the center of attention.

He passed by Chrom.

"Having a good time?"

"Lissa hasn't dropped any frogs on me yet. Better than I expected."

"Well, good enough. Care to leave some of the fun to everyone else? The most perfect woman in Ylisse has been halfway to falling all night so far."

Sumia winced.

"Sorry."

"It just adds to your charm. But it does mean a little time off the floor would be good. You said you'd like to talk more with Lissa, anyway."

Lissa smiled.

"We can talk about little Lucina! I bet she's going to be talking way sooner than most babies."

"Err…"

The two women walked towards a corner of the room. Chrom nodded to his friend and drifted towards the drinks. Then he nodded towards Lissa.

"You know, she likes you. You're both single, and you're spending every waking hour here already. It would be nice to have you in the family."

"She likes me as a target."

"Which is better than you're doing with anyone else right now. Well, excluding that Plegian mage. Who, as your best friend, I'd recommend against."

Robin chuckled.

"Is this 'Get thee a wife' again? Because Sumia said the same thing. Or she's been hinting."

"All I'm saying is that you could use someone to keep you from disappearing into your study for all hours, and your tastes seem to run more towards wife than husband from what I've seen of them. Of course, I think at this point wyvern would be fine, if it kept you going outside."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. I'm fine."

"Tell that to Mirabelle. You said, and I quote, that her wedding to Libra was…"

"I was drunk! You can't...you know what, that's not necessary. You and Sumia are happy. Good for you. But I think there's something that needs my attention. Over there. "

"The wall?"

"Do I need to explain the strategic implications of walls? Walls are the center of thousands of legendary battles."

"Lissa will be disappointed."

"Once she's done, she can find me. I've never managed to get away from her before. No matter how much I run."

Chrom laughed.

"You two were made for each other."

"Gods, wouldn't that be my luck."

'Hey, Robin!"

Robin winced.

"Right on cue."

"Made for each other."

"Look. Even assuming soul mates are a thing, which I won't grant, getting TWO deep and lasting emotional bonds on a predetermined level in the same family is statistically insane."

"No destiny. Just…"

"No need to quote me back at me. Fine. I'll spend a little more time with Lissa. If it makes you both happy."

"Thank you."

"Oh, before I forget…"

Robin reached into his sleeve.

"I got some things for the occasion. Well, and for forgetting Lucina's christening gifts. Let's see, for her, I found a falchion replica in the market. Child safe, and very durable."

"Durable?"

"If she takes after you, it has to be. For Sumia, I managed to find something else by the author of Ribald Tales of the Faith Wars. Saga of the Crying Halo. It's not as good, but this was the only copy I could find. Banned by a few major religions over the years, and finding a copy unburnt was a minor miracle. She'll love it."

"I really don't know what she sees in some of these."

"Which is why you don't get invited to the book clubs. As for you, that was tricky."

"You don't need to…"

"But I did. Notice how Frederick hasn't been around much lately?"

"Yes. He had something come up. It's made life much easier, as much as I hate to insult him."

"You're welcome. Now, if you'll excuse me, Lissa's waiting."

Robin nodded towards Lissa and returned to his obligations. The dancing didn't go much better, but Sully was on the floor. No matter what he did, Sully would be a worse dancer. If he didn't like her enough already, that would seal it.

"So, what were you and my brother talking about?"

"He thinks I should, er…"

"Yeah?"

"Ask you out."

Lissa snickered. Then she snorted. Then she started laughing. Very, very hard.

"He thinks I'm interested… HAHAHAHAHA!"

"Hey! I didn't say you were! And why wouldn't you be? Tharja thinks I'm a catch."

Lissa just kept laughing.

Robin sighed.

"Okay, yes. She's insane and can't be taken as a valid character witness."

"*Snort* No, you're… fine. You're Chrom's best friend, though. It would feel weird!"

"And you're the bratty, obnoxious kid sister I probably never had. I'd feel weirder."

"Hey! Who are you calling bratty?"

"You, apparently. Come on. We've got a night to waste, and if you're enjoying this, I have a sacred almost-sort-of-siblingly duty to keep things going."

"I'm not."

"Thank the gods. I'm not either. I mean, DONNEL seems to be having a better time, and Sully has slammed him into every single possible target in the entire country."

'_Tharja _is having a better time with a little doll of you."

Robin looked. Yes, she was. Well, a doll and a sucker. Correction. Two suckers, the one in her mouth and the one that gave the first.

"You know, in the interests of not killing the mood for everyone else and mutual self preservation, why don't we head outside?"

Lissa took the lead. The night air was crisp and cold. The stars felt close. And Lissa was shivering already.

"I'm sorry. This might have been a bad idea. You can go back inside."

"I can take it just as long as you can, mister."

"I'm wearing three layers of robe. You're in a party dress. Even if we had the same tolerance, you'd give in before I would. And for all you know, I grew up in Regna Ferox. I might love the cold."

Lissa grinned.

"I've seen you in the snow.."

"Okay. Maybe not Regna Ferox. Still. Somewhere. Maybe even somewhere cold."

"Yeah. *snort*."

"Well, I practiced. You haven't. For so long. So very long."

Lissa's smile faded.

"Oh. Right. When you and Sully were…"

"That's the time. I wish it had ended better. But it wasn't going to work from the start."

"Because you couldn't keep up?"

"I got closer than most people! But that was only half the issue, at most. I was an awful excuse for a boyfriend. Really, you shouldn't date someone while pining after someone else. Cordelia made it look so easy!"

Lissa's eyes lit up through the shivering.

"Who?"

"I said too much already."

"Come ooonnnnnnn. You know you can trust me!"

"If the pond wasn't frozen, I'd be knee deep in frogs right now. Trust is not the word I'd use."

"But you know what I would do, and you trust me to do it!"

"I should never have tried that class on logic. Well, I can tell you this much. It's no-one you wouldn't approve of."

"Mirabelle? Ohmygosh, but she married Libra! And you didn't say anything!"

"Close. But no. The OTHER woman I've seen you with a crush on."

"What? I mean, WHAT?"

Robin smiled. One end of his mouth went much higher than the other.

"You don't remember? 'Thank you for saving me Marth' 'Oh, Marth, you're so dreamy!' 'Oh, Marth, I want to kiss you on the mouth'"

"I didn't…"

"You did."

"I didn't know. I thought she was a guy!"

"I didn't say I blamed you. She's amazing. I was thinking the same thing the first time we met."

"Uh, I thought you didn't…"

"I was willing to make an exception if he was. I mean, I don't believe in love at first sight. But every time I saw her, I was more impressed. Gods, the things she must have seen, and she still keeps going. Her bladework is impeccable, I've barely seen her slip up in stances, and of course she's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. On top of..."

Robin paused.

"Did you hear someone?"

Lissa shook her head.

"I didn't…"

A bush rustled

"Okay. Now I did."

"I'll check. You can go back inside. If you get into any trouble, Chrom would kill me."

"No he wouldn't."

"No. But I'd probably ask him to. And then no-one would be happy. I have a sword, a spellbook, and sturdy robes. You're in a party dress. I think I'm in a better position to investigate suspicious noises right now. It's not that you're delicate. It's that I'm going to do something borderline stupid, and bringing someone else would be fully stupid."

"If you say so."

"I do. Look. If you do this, I won't mention the frog that you obviously have up your sleeve somehow, despite everything. Deal?"

Lissa's face went through a variety of exotic patterns before it fell into a nod. And Robin was alone.

He tapped on his sword hilt. In place. Books, in the sleeve holsters. Boots on tight. Fear reflexes, accounted for. If Risen were waiting in the woods, he was set. If a lot of Risen were waiting in the woods, he could probably run away before they devoured him.

Silent approach. Being polite was much less important than having the initiative. The walking dead didn't hand out do-overs for good manners.

A twig snapped in two. Robin's blade snapped to attention. A sword at his throat. His at someone else's.

His next words were slow to come.

"I can't see you, but I think we don't want to kill each other."

A gasp came before a response, and the blade fell.

"No. We don't."

"Marth?"

"...Yes."

Robin's sword fell to the ground.

"I didn't expect to see you here. Stargazing?"

"No. I heard that that Chrom had a daughter."

Robin smiled.

"A week ago. A step for a brighter future, I hope? Still. I'd think a prophet would have been here on time."

"I expected her to be born somewhere else. A Plegian battlefield. It took a while to find the right place."

"Born on a battlefield? That would be a nightmare. Even with the best luck in the world, any child in those circumstances would need a lifetime of therapy. I'd hate to meet…"

Marth frowned. Robin lifted his hands.

"Oh. Oh gods. I'm sorry."

"I've been through worse. Believe me."

"That's no excuse for an insult. And it means I was very wrong. I would want to meet someone born under the circumstances. In fact, there's almost no-one I'm more glad I've met. Would be more glad to meet? Gods. What I mean is you're amazing."

Robin thanked anyone listening for the dark. Having Marth see him blush this much would just do _wonders _for his dignity.

"Thank you."

Aaand now he was blushing even more. Perfect!

"It's not half the compliments you deserve. We'd all be worse off without you. More dead in the war, Chrom crippled. Plegia a wasteland."

"I still fear the worst."

"Well, I'm glad you're looking out for the rest of us."

"And I know that might not be enough."

"Hey. I'm a tactician. If anyone knows about making due with insufficient resources, I should. And any plan with you involved is much more likely to succeed."

"Well, I'm not a patch on… ah."

"Naga herself if she took mortal form? Because that's the only way I can see someone being THAT much better than you. Better, yes. I'm sure there's a few people with that kind of skill. I've heard about an island where the greatest soldiers in the world hold tournaments. I think you're right. They could beat you. But you'd give them a fight."

"That's not who I had in mind."

"Well, I'd be impressed to meet who you did. Chrom and Sumia, two on one, and they barely managed. And they're two of the more reliable members of our little band. Um… I have a question, thinking of. If it's not too forward."

"I suppose there's no harm if you ask."

"It's peacetime. I know that. And I know I'm just being paranoid, planning for a war that could never come. But a good soldier could help our training. Chrom's our best, and your style seems like a more refined relative of his. Pay wouldn't be an issue, if you're worried about it. And I'm sure we'd all be glad to have you around."

"It's a… generous offer. But I'm sure someone would object."

"I can't think who. Chrom wouldn't mind, you saved enough of our lives for his count. Lissa wouldn't, she's **on **that list. And I know I'd…"

Robin stopped himself. No need to be stupid. No need to make things as awkward for her as they already were for him.

"I know I wouldn't object."

"I can't. I've spent too much time here already. Interfered too much, and not enough."

"Oh."

Robin paused for words.

" I'm glad I could see you again tonight. It made up for a dull evening, believe me."

He coughed.

"The stars are nice, anyway."

"They're beautiful. I've never seen them this bright before."

"Second most beautiful th...at I've seen. They're amazing."

They sat in the silent dark for an eternity. Robin never felt so at peace.

And then, without a word, she was gone.

Robin stumbled to his feet, looked back at the world, and sighed.

Then he walked back into the warm light of the party. Well, he wasn't getting everything. But really, he didn't expect that much.

All in all, an excellent night.

* * *

><p><strong>(Author's notes: Well, I said there probably wouldn't be another entry this year, and that was <em>going<em> to be true. Then I found this lying around in an old file folder. Just a light bit set in the two year timeskip, but it seemed to have enough good moments to be worth putting up, and it fit the time of year when I found it.**

**Seemed a good stopgap while working on the next entry, so here we are. **

**As always, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed the story, and have a pleasant whatever time of year it is when you read this.)**


	11. More story about time travel and Severa

**Sending an angel**

* * *

><p>"OWAIN! Snap out of it!"<p>

Severa tried to keep her breathing level. Dad always said a good tactician kept calm no matter what. Stupid miss perfect had been stoic when she went off to her death. Even _Morgan _kept a level head when things went wrong. Just because the Exalt was freezing up and everyone else was dead and this whole stupid plan was never going to work was no reason to panic.

Yelling at Owain wasn't panicking. Yelling at Owain was a way to keep him on track. Someone needed to.

How did it come to this? Yesterday, there were hundreds of people left. Nine of them made it to the ruins. And now, as far as she knew, only she and Owain were left. Naga promised them a path to the past and a chance to make things right, but if she didn't come through…

Gods. It would be her stupidest childhood fantasy come to life. She really hoped it wouldn't come to that. Rebuilding humanity with only Owain for company was not going to be a pleasant experience. Especially not when he was panicking like this.

"I'm not a hero."

"It doesn't matter!"

"I'm not the man Chrom was. I can't even use Falchion. I'm a fraud."

"Where's the Owain I used to know? The one saying stupid things about the blood of heroes and his sword hand twitching?"

"I think he died with everyone else."

"Then activate Avenger Mode or whatever! Gawds, you spend ages talking about how you're powered by vengeance, and the one time we need you to be crazy like that you're just depressing. In case you didn't notice, you're the only Exalt we have!"

Owain stumbled to his feet.

"Then… twas just a moment's fancy!"

"Great. Now we need to run. Naga said she had a portal open for us, but…"

"But monstrous foes mock our efforts. Fear not! The blood of heroes demands victory!"

"It demands running."

Owain shook his head and reached for Falchion.

"Forsooth, it is not so. Deliver my regards to mine uncle! For I have an appointment with destiny!"

"Owain. I wanted you to _stop _being an idiot."

Owain looked back at Severa.

"We only need to warn the past. And it only takes one person to send a message."

"Maybe! Or maybe our stupid parents got killed because no-one could fight. Or they need more than one exalt for some godsdamned reason!"

Owain shook his head.

"They just need one visitor to defy fate. But our pursuers would… pursue you to the depths. A hero must stand against them so the chosen of destiny can redeem the past!"

"You don't need to die here!"

Owain smiled.

"Everyone else has. Besides, OWAIN THE DARK AVENGER is a creature of the night! Of darkness and vengeance! Fortune dictates that his lot is not to consort with the denizens of the bright past!"

Severa could argue. Could try to keep the one person left that she cared about alive. But it never worked before.

Her father always said it was important to know when to cut losses. Usually he spit it out, of course. Or cried. He cried most nights before he was gone, when he thought no-one was looking. But he made things clear when she was growing up. If you tried to fight the inevitable, you just lost more without getting what you wanted back.

She ran for the portal. She didn't look back. Tried not to listen. Tried not to think about anything but the battles ahead. She jumped for the past. And fell.

For a moment, she thought she hadn't gone anywhere. There were Risen below her, and a red sky all around. She was falling, but there were always ways to fall. Then she saw a teenage girl, younger than she was, on the ground surrounded by Risen. The question was moot. If you found survivors, you tried to help. Maybe they'd die anyway, maybe you'd have to run in the end. But if you didn't try, none of it was worth anything.

"Get back, idiot!"

"What?"

Oh, perfect. She was alone with the stupidest person alive.

"Gawds! Those are Risen! They want to kill you. I think you would have…"

She looked at the girl again. No. There was no way. But there she stood. Lissa. Owain's mother, ruler of Ylisse for the last days anyone cared what a country _was_. The voice of maturity and adulthood as long as Severa could remember.

Not exactly a match for the snot nosed girl in front of her. But they had the same eyes.

"Lissa?"

And then a Risen went for Severa's throat. Stupid. Stupid of her to let her guard down, stupid of it to try to fight her with such bad form, stupid of Lissa to be standing there, and stupid of Owain to try and die heroically instead of helping for good measure. Severa didn't have much time to think while the Risen attacked, so the curses played on loop. Sometimes it drifted to cursing her parents, Chrom, Naga, Grima. But mostly it was on her.

When the blood stopped flowing, she looked up again. Lissa was here. Which could mean other people she'd know were here. Younger, but it would be a chance to see them again. To say the things she always meant to say before they died.

Mostly, it was yelling at them. But still.

Sully was there, Kjelle's mother. Dead before Severa could know her well, but Kjelle had nothing but compliments, and Kjelle was one of the few people Severa'd been able to count on. Probably no manners, but in a war you had to make do. Lissa, of course. An archer who might be Virion, if that was even his name. Keeping track of every single dead person wasn't worth the trouble then, and until she could remember a way he could be useful, it wasn't worth the trouble now. Or it wouldn't be worth the trouble and it hadn't been… oh gods, she was thinking like Morgan. Severa looked away just to regain her bearings. And then she saw him.

Her father. Younger, of course. For the first time she could almost see what her mother saw in him. Sure, his hair was scruffy, he had no idea how to properly groom himself, his coat was covered in… was than an insect? Gods, how was she even related to him?

But he looked decent enough, aside from that. Happier than she'd seen him since Cordelia died, which helped. She'd have to yell at him as soon as she caught her breath. Any second now. But then someone else had to start talking and distract her.

"Are you the woman who saved my sister?"

Severa was wheezing. The fighting was supposed to be easier in the past!

"She...shouldn't… have… been… so… stu…"

"I'm sorry we caused you trouble."

Breath was coming back any minute. She probably had enough for one good yell, right? Whoever this was, she'd had an awful day, and he didn't deserve to be happy just because he didn't lose anyone!

She turned to face him. Aaand breath was gone.

Severa had memories of Chrom. Maybe not that many, but more than any of her peers. He was a tired looking man, crippled and more than a little bitter. A broken wreck that her mother should have never given a moment's thought, that no-one should have praised like they did. The man in front of her was not that Chrom.

Well, she had a lot to yell at any Chrom in existence for. The one in front of her would have to do.

"BE SORRY FOR BEING SO HANDSOME, IDIOT!"

That… was not what she meant to yell.

Chrom turned red.

"I've never heard that one before."

Severa shook her head. She had a good angry rant ready. Perfect, with subsections for everything he did to ruin her father, get her mother killed, and make Owain so desperate that nothing could live up to his imagined duties. And then she'd get into why she hated him personally. That one was really going to go places.

"Gawds, you are thick. Do you know how many women are throwing themselves at you?"

"No?"

Or she could go entirely off script and flail around like an idiot. That worked too. For the first time in a long time, Severa was glad that Morgan was gone. Having her here would make everything that much more embarrassing.

"Well, I'm not!"

Chrom coughed.

"I didn't say you were."

Severa tried to calm herself again. It was a stressful day, almost everyone she knew was dead, she might be going insane, and she was somewhere around 20 years in the past.

Her father always told her to think things through when she thought she might make a mistake. The fact he was standing less than twenty feet away didn't change that. So. Naga sent her to the past. She was the only hope of stopping Grima. So, she should leave and recollect her thoughts, figure out where history could be changed for the better. Then she could approach the right people, fix things, and get a hero's welcome. Money, nice clothes, the finer things. Everyone happy, nobody dead, and all easy as things come, if she just slipped away now.

The fact that leaving now meant not humiliating herself any further in front of Chrom and her father was just a side bonus.

She ran off into the bushes without a word.

Back in the clearing, Robin turned towards Chrom.

"Does this sort of thing happen often?"

"Until today, it hadn't happened once."

* * *

><p><strong>Finding a job<strong>

* * *

><p>Robin cursed the Feroxi air. He wasn't fond of it when he arrived. He liked it less now that his coat was ripped and burnt, and his wounds were fresh and exposed to the air. It was worse with the gladiators around him. Laughing and joking in less clothing than he'd wear to the beach. Under normal circumstances he'd have something pleasant but empty to say in response to their compliments. Right now, he just wanted to find one person, talk to her, and start heading south before he froze to death.<p>

He saw her shivering by a locker. As much as it hurt his reputation as a kind, empathic individual, Robin was glad to see someone else as miserable as he was.

"Excuse me?"

She almost jumped to look at him.

"What is it? Gawds, it was bad enough you beat us. But now you have to come in to brag about it."

"That wasn't what I wanted to do at all. It was as much luck as anything."

"Of course you'd say that. Ugh. False humility. You must think that's really charming."

Robin coughed.

"I'll admit you didn't coordinate as well as you could have. But I was impressed all the same."

He ran through a few moments from the fight. Admittedly, Robin hadn't seen much fighting against armies, just against bandits and Risen, but he could make an estimate from the compliments Chrom gave him and the books he reviewed on the trip as to how most people fought, and the woman in front of him was good. Considered her environment, tried to read her enemies for weaknesses, kept her side's flaws in mind. If she could actually convince people to follow her plans, she might have beaten him.

She glared at him.

"Fine. Why should I care?"

"Well, uh… I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Severa. You should…"

Severa stopped. Robin tilted his head half an inch.

"I should…?"

"Say your name? Gawds. It's not like it's complicated."

"Robin. But you must have heard that earlier. You called my position out to the mages."

Severa winced.

"Well, maybe if you didn't shout it everywhere!"

Robin felt a curious sense of deja vu. He wasn't going to win if this turned into an argument.

"I'm sorry if I offended you. Here's why you should care. I'd like to hire you."

"What?"

"I'm sure we can afford a standard mercenary's fees on a royal budget, and considering that Regna Ferox is sending its troops to war anyway it's not like you'd be going too far out of your way."

"You're joking."

"Not remotely. You're one of the best mercenaries I've seen, you understand magic well enough to channel a spell back into your swordplay, something I've never seen before, and you're a more than competent tactician. Going against you once was educational. A fight to the death might be suicide."

" 'Never make enemies when you can help it.' "

Robin smiled.

"Well, that's the idea, at least. So far, I haven't had much luck with it."

Severa looked at her locker again.

"What do you _really _want?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You're not telling me something. If you were just looking for mercenaries, then you'd have at least asked some of these idiots."

"Not if I thought you were the best."

Severa snorted.

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

After a few seconds, Robin sighed.

"Gods. I was hoping that I wouldn't have to broadcast everything. Fine. I recognized your fighting style. More or less. You're adapting other influences into it, but you're using the same stances I do."

"So you're saying I'm redundant."

"No."

"Oh! You think you're so special, coming up with something on your own, and now you think I'm going to ruin your reputation! You want to hide away all the imitators."

"I want to know where I learned it!"

Severa's jaw dropped.

"How stupid do you think I am?"

"I don't have a single memory from before I met Chrom. All I knew was my name and his."

"And Chrom believed that?"

Robin grimaced and searched for the right words.

"He's…trusting. He wants to believe the best of people. To be fair, he also makes people want to be the best they can be."

"Gag me."

"I'm sorry if I'm saying too much on the topic. He's a good man. I think you'd like him too, if you knew him. And I'd be grateful for anything more about how I came here."

"Why do you think I know?"

"Your fighting style, as I mentioned. You've got the same mark on your left shoulder as I have on my hand, which I haven't seen anywhere else. And, well, you knew my name before I said it."

Severa glared.

"So you're going to try to drag the truth out of me? Get the hot pokers, she has a weird birthmark!"

Robin raised his hands and stepped back.

"Nothing like that! Whatever you want to say, whenever you want to say it, I'd be grateful for the information."

Severa looked Robin in the eyes. Robin looked back.

"You really don't know anything about your past?"

"No."

"That's just pathetic. I feel kind of bad about insulting you now."

"Thank you?"

"You're welcome. If you really need me… I _guess _I can help. Just don't expect too many answers."

Robin exhaled.

"Thank you. And I didn't. Considering how far you must be from home, I'm assuming we didn't come from a happy background. I probably wouldn't want to talk about it much either, in your position."

"And don't expect me to suck up to Chrom. He's going to get what he has coming."

"I'll try to warn him in advance."

And apologize. Robin reviewed a few of the ones he'd prepared already. "I didn't think she'd accept", "She did save Lissa's life" and "We need all the help we can get" figured prominently. He had a feeling that he'd need a few more before long. Possibly a lot more.

Five hours later, the Shepherds were headed south. Robin could hear voices from the back of the group.

"You know what you did!"

"No! I don't! I also don't know why Robin…"

Robin started walking faster.

He would definitely need more apologies.

* * *

><p><strong>Not in love<strong>

* * *

><p>Chrom held his breath. He'd never been good at stealth, and tonight was just more evidence of it, but for once he didn't have a choice. Both of his sisters almost died tonight, and several of his closest friends were seriously wounded. Whatever Plegian general was behind the night's assassinations, the castle was compromised. They'd need to evacuate soon. But first, he had a score to settle.<p>

The woman was sitting in the corner, looking at her nails. If he could just slip in before she noticed him, he could finish what he came here for and leave without trouble.

"Gawds. I was hoping I wouldn't have to vomit today, but it looks like Prince Too-Perfect-For-This-Sinful-Earth is here to tell us how great he is."

She noticed him. Chrom cursed under his breath. So much for stealth.

"I'm sorry for interrupting your valuable self pity sessions. I'd hate for one of our tacticians to think she had to work more on long term strategies than on her hair. And…"

Chrom shook his head.

"And I wasn't here to get into another argument. Gods, you do not make this easy."

"That's the point. Someone has to remember not to worship the ground you walk on!"

"I remember when you were just saying I was good looking. As confusing as that was, I think I prefered it."

"Well you shouldn't have gotten used to it."

"I didn't!"

"Good!"

"Fine!"

Chrom sighed.

"We're arguing again. All I wanted to do was thank you, but this happens every time."

He should have asked Robin to handle it. Severa almost seemed to have sympathy for him. Just pass on a few things, message sent, and no-one gets wrapped up in an endless circular argument. But for some reason, he felt like handling this himself, and now the rest of the night was ruined.

"Then just say it and go!"

"You've saved both my sisters now. I wouldn't have known those assassins were here. You may not like me, and I might not like you, but people I care about a good deal owe you their lives. There. I said it."

"And you're still here. Ugh. Typical. It isn't Emmeryn's fault that you think you're so perfect. It isn't Lissa's fault that half the women you know are stupid enough to think you're a catch. And if you're going to stay here, sit down! It's distracting me."

Chrom shrugged and took a seat. No point in wearing his legs out if he was going to wind up in the middle of an all-nighter.

"I'm grateful all the same. For an obnoxious, self centered, stuck up pain-in-the-arse, you were helpful. I have no idea how you knew about those assassins."

Severa winced.

"You don't want to know anyway."

"Why? I doubt anything would make you _less _likable. Does it have anything to do with Robin?"

"Why do you care?"

"Robin's a friend of mine. The best I have. The leader of these damned assassins seemed to know him. If you knew anything about it, I might be able to help him."

"And maybe he'd be better off not knowing."

"That's his choice. I wouldn't want Lissa to hide things from me out of fear I'd react badly. I don't think Robin would want his younger sister lying to him."

Severa's eyebrows shot up enough that Chrom would swear they left her head. Well. It seemed he was more observant than he gave himself credit for.

"Younger sister."

"I know what it looks like when you had to grow up in someone's shadow."

Personal experience covered for it more than well enough. Chrom liked to think he'd found his place in the world, the hero protecting the weak throughout Ylisse with his trusted friends. (And now friends of his trusted friends, including, unfortunately, Severa). But Emm… Emm was someone Chrom hoped he'd never need to live up to.

"Because you think he's better than I am."

"You think so, and I'm not going to argue. I don't want to be here all night."

Severa glared.

"Because you're sooo important."

"...Because I left half the Shepherds in the medic's tent, and you and Robin are the only reason they aren't in the morgue."

"Did you ever wonder why?"

"I have a guess. Because I wasn't good enough. If I trained harder…"

Severa laughed. As usual, there wasn't an ounce of mirth in it.

"No. Because you're too perfect. Again."

"How is that a problem?"

"Because you try to pretend that you aren't! Your stupid false humility and acting like we're all one big happy family and being a stupid jerk is going to get them all killed."

Chrom grimaced.

"I thought you hated how arrogant I was. I'm pretty sure there's nothing I can do that would make you stop blaming me."

"Not when it's your fault! You talk to everyone and act like they're all soooo special and important and you're just one of the regular people. Then they all think they can be like you!"

"And then they can."

"No they can't! Vaike broke his arm because he slipped up in training a week ago and never bothered to get a strain looked at because you never got hurt from it, and he's your 'rival'. If you'd just admit that your stupid exalt blood meant he couldn't keep up, maybe he'd be more careful!"

"He's Vaike. I'm not sure he could _spell _careful. And he's getting better. Some day, with practice…"

"Practice he won't get, because you'll get him killed first. Sumia nearly died from taking an arrow you could have shrugged off, Donnel shouldn't even be on a battlefield, Robin works himself three quarters to death for you every night, Cordelia is obsessed with you…"

"Cordelia?"

"Oh, gods, you don't even remember her."

"No. I just don't know where you would have met her. And if she was obsessed, I think she would have said more than five words to be at the last state function."

"It doesn't matter! You're just setting an impossible standard for everyone, and it's going to get them all killed because we're not like you. Are you happy now?"

"No. And you're selling everyone short. Including..."

Chrom cursed under his breath to admit it.

"yourself."

"And now more false humility. I get enough of that already."

"Anything I achieve is because we work together. Robin must have said it to you more than once. It's our bonds that allow us to succeed. I might be better at some things than the rest of the Shepherds, but if I was alone I'd be long dead."

Severa muttered something that almost sounded like agreement. Chrom would be more confident if he could remember her agreeing with anything before, but it seemed like as good a reason to continue as any.

"The assassins a few hours ago. I might have survived that attack, gods know I'm luckier than I deserve to be, but I wouldn't be in any shape to fight after. Even if I admitted I could beat you in a sparring match, you and Robin can plan for eventualities I'd never think of."

A second passed in silence. Five. Ten. Then Severa broke the silence.

"You're welcome."

Robin once told Chrom about how he passed the time and stayed while on patrol. He would think of the most impossible scenario, and then try to come up with the appropriate response. They ranged from military scenarios (like armor that could fight on its own, or cannons light enough and mobile enough to use on a battlefield instead of exclusively in siege warfare) to political oddities to social awkwardness. Chrom had tried it from time to time, amusing himself with the most unlikely things he could imagine.

None of them were half as unexpected as hearing those words from Severa without an ounce of sarcasm. Chrom stumbled for several seconds before words came out in an order even resembling an appropriate response.

"Thank you."

The silence returned. Time passed. Eventually someone coughed.

"So. I have… things. That I should do. For people."

"People who think you're oh-so-special."

"People who let me complete a sentence without jumping on my back about every single word I use!"

"People who worship the ground you walk on instead of telling you the truth!"

"People who don't use every opportunity for an argument!"

"People who don't have the backbone to call you out when you're being an idiot!"

"People who aren't you!"

"Exactly!"

"Exactly!"

Chrom stormed off. He'd never met anyone that infuriating! It was a wonder Robin could take five minutes talking with her.

Next time they'd meet, he'd have better arguments. Next time, he'd… do better.

Chrom was already looking forward to it.

* * *

><p><strong>Boys want to be with the girls<strong>

* * *

><p>Cordelia sighed. It seemed impossible. All of it seemed impossible. One day, she was in training drills, trying to prove herself to her unit. She was the rookie in one of the most veteran wings of the Ylissean pegasus knights. Now, they were all dead, Ylisse was in a losing war, and she was under the direct command of Prince Chrom himself. Things were simultaneously far better and far worse than she ever would have imagined.<p>

At least now they had room to breathe, lick their wounds, and try to figure out what chances they had to fight back. The first step for her was reporting in to the tactician's tent and finding what she could do. Work, when she could find it, helped her drown out the screams. She walked to the flap and pushed it aside.

A man and a woman stood at opposite ends of a table, pushing small wooden soldiers across it. They looked close enough to be twins. The same wirey muscles on their arms, the same sharp eyes, the same unkempt white hair. The woman put more effort into keeping it in line, but she seemed too busy to notice that it was ignoring her best attempts at control.

"No, that won't work. We're still talking Feroxi troops. They're not going to break, but they're too slow to retreat for an effective feint."

"Idiots."

"Don't let them hear you say that. And I wouldn't use that term, but…"

The man looked up from the table towards Cordelia.

"We have a guest. Um, hello. You're Cordelia, right?"

"Yes."

"I...should make introductions. A battlefield isn't the best place to get to know people, not that I have much room to… ah. I'm Robin. Hello."

"You said that already."

"Right, right. Sorry. I'm the main tactician for the Shepherds, and I suppose the whole army now. Or what's left of it. And my lovely assistant…"

He nodded across the table.

"Is Severa. One of the finest minds in Ylisse."

The woman's chest (what there was of it) puffed out. (Not that Cordelia had much room to criticize on that count.) Then she turned to look at Cordelia.

"Let me guess. You want to talk to Chrom."

"No."

Not at the moment. Or, to be more accurate, Cordelia didn't put it as a priority at that moment. There were (sigh) more important things than Chrom. Or at least, there were more important things than a conversation with Chrom. And Chrom almost certainly had more important things to do than to talk to her.

"Hmmph. There's a first."

Robin turned towards Severa and then back to Cordelia.

"Do you know each other?"

Cordelia shook her head.

Severa rolled her eyes.

"It's pretty obvious. Gawds, every time she had a chance to ask for a posting, she wanted to be moved closer to Chrom."

"That's not…"

"She played the harp at his birthday."

"Only…"

Robin coughed.

"Cordelia, I'm sure you had a good reason to come here. I'd be glad to help you with anything you need to know."

"Thank you."

"You're more than welcome. We've spent some time reviewing your records and, well, they're…"

Severa clenched her teeth.

"Perfect."

"More or less. I expected that anyone assigned to the fifth wing would be, well, exceptional. But your record leaves most of us in the shade. I wish we could have met under more pleasant circumstances, but from a tactical standpoint… you couldn't have come at a better time. Is there anything I should take into account before sorting out your assignment? I wouldn't want to miss something that could be a problem."

Cordelia smiled.

"I'm fine. The haunted screams of all my closest friends have gone down from an unending dirge to a pleasant jingle. And now when I close my eyes, the bloody and terrified corpses don't _always _look like people I know."

Robin's jaw dropped.

Severa rolled her eyes.

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

Robin turned to Severa.

"Did you hear her? That's not…"

"I don't think it's that funny either, but that's her kind of joke. At least pretend to laugh at it."

"That's not a joke!"

Cordelia coughed.

"It was."

Robin turned back towards Cordelia.

"Oh. Well, I should… I thought… if you'd like me to laugh, I can get started immediately."

"I think we missed the moment."

"I guess we did. I'm sure there's… gods, I feel like an idiot. Well, there's some rough outlines on the table for you to look over, if you feel up to it. Meanwhile, I'll be banging my head against something sturdy."

Severa's eyes looked like they were going to fall back into her head.

"It's not like anyone else gets her jokes most of the time. Just… ugh. I'm not getting anything done with you around."

Robin looked back to the table.

"I'm not sure that we…"

"Get out! Both of you! Now!"

Robin put his hand on Cordelia's shoulder and took a step towards the exit.

"I'm sorry for everything about this. I'd say she's not normally like this…"

But he'd be lying. Cordelia could finish the sentence well enough on her own. Cordelia followed him back outside under the bright stars and the empty moon. The lights were never this bright at this time of year, not on the border. She looked to her right. Robin was staring at the stars.

"They're still beautiful."

"Oh?"

"The stars, I mean. I thought… I hadn't really looked at them since the war started. Part of me felt like they should be bleeding. When the Earth falls out of order, it seemed right for the heavens to reflect it."

"I'm afraid the stars never cared much how anyone else suffered."

Robin smiled a little.

"That's a harsh way to think of it. Nothing about how there's always hope, or that there's good beyond the grasp of our present hardships?"

"I'm afraid I'm not that much of an optimist."

"Considering how most of the war is going, you might want to try it. I find it cuts down on unproductive sobbing and whimpering."

"I manage in my own ways."

"Fair. If you can cope… well, it's all we can do now. At least, until a miracle arrives."

"I'm sure you've given Naga a wishlist already."

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a praying man. I never can find the words. Not the right ones, anyway. If she intervenes, it's on her schedule, not mine."

"And what are we going to do until then?"

"Well, we've ruled out getting a miracle the easy way. I suppose that leaves the hard one. Blood. Sweat. Tears. The army needs perfection. We'll work to supply it."

"We?"

"Err… you and I, I meant. And… the rest of the Shepherds. But I was thinking of your record. Effortless perfection, or something of that nature."

"_Effortless_."

Cordelia tried to keep her sarcasm in check most days. It wasn't like most people caught it, and when people did, it just made more problems. But it was late, she watched her superiors butchered before her eyes after finally realizing they cared about her, and now she was in for a fresh round of "Little Miss Perfect". "Don't worry about Cordelia, she'll do fine!" "Oh, Cordelia. Of course it's easy for her." "Well, maybe it's easy for Cordelia…"

She could be excused for letting a little of it drip onto the tactician. Besides, judging from the company he kept, he could take it.

Robin chuckled.

"Exactly. I've been accused of the same thing, and I know, err, excuse the language, _damn well _how many hours of practice it takes to make something look easy."

"And then they treat you like a freak because they assume that anyone that skilled…"

"You're preaching to the choir. Even Chrom does it sometimes, and Severa does it more. We might have a little more natural talent in some fields, but unpolished talent loses to concentrated effort eight times out of ten. It's nice to have someone else notice that."

"When people just see perfection, they can't see your flaws."

"Or help you improve them. Exactly. You know… heh. You'd think it's ridiculous."

"What?"

"I wonder if the stars feel the same way?"

"The stars."

"We see their dance in the heavens, how they never miss a step, never pause for our little concerns and pains, and assume that's because they can't fail. Maybe they've just had more time to practice their art. Beneath it all, they're just as scared and tired and confused as the rest of us."

Robin's breath drifted past Cordelia's eyes. In the fog, a few of the stars blurred.

If she didn't know better, she'd think they were crying too.

* * *

><p><strong>One good thing<strong>

* * *

><p>Chrom paced across the tent, practicing his form. Five steps to the end. Five steps back. Not much room to think.<p>

Of course, Robin always said that you could imagine the whole world inside a prison cell, but Robin was Robin, and Chrom was Chrom. Simple as that. If they had the same gifts, they wouldn't compliment each other half as well.

If Chrom wanted to think, he might envy Robin. At the moment, he pitied him. When he wasn't thinking, he could keep up his drive on blind rage. Gangrel was a monster. Gangrel was going to die for his crimes. Chrom would be the man who killed him. But there were moments when though came, and it always came with guilt and fear. He wasn't good enough. Smart enough. He'd never manage to fill Emmeryn's shoes, never be the king Ylisse needed.

So. Good he wasn't thinking. And good that nothing in the tent was fragile.

Take a step. Prepare to draw.

Take a step. Keep your motions fluid.

Take a step. Bash with your shoulder to throw them off balance.

Take a step. Blade out.

Take a step. Narrowly avoid stabbing the woman who just barged into your tent.

"GAWDS! Are you trying to kill me?"

"Wouldn't that be nice."

Falchion slipped back into its sheath, and Severa grimaced.

"You'd probably be doing the world a favor."

"Why are you here? Doesn't Robin…"

"He's busy with little miss perfect. We've got your stupid strategies ready for tomorrow anyway."

"Little miss perfect?"

"Cordelia. You should know. She's always talking about you."

Oh. Her. Chrom did know she _existed_. Robin spent nearly as much time talking about her as Chrom spent complaining about Severa. She seemed like a good match for Robin, all told. Brilliant, talented at more or less everything you could name, beautiful, and the list continued from there. Of course, that was all going on what Robin said. Chrom had barely met her. She played harp at his birthday, but every time he tried to talk she ran. Severa mentioned her before, but considering everything else about his conversations with Severa, it was safe to chalk that up as a bizarre mind game.

"I'm sure she is. That still leaves me wondering why you're here. I'm sure you have something more important to do than yelling at me."

And he must have something better to do than yelling at her. Not that he could remember one.

"I'm here to say I'm…"

"Yes?"

"I'm s..."

Chrom tapped his foot.

"You're still amazed that anyone would listen to me?"

"I'm s…"

"You're sick of looking at my face? You have enough standard insults that it's hard to narrow things down."

"I'm sorry, you idiot! Gawds!"

"_You're _sorry."

"Of course I am! I got your sister killed! I acted like everything was your fault, and now I ruined everything!"

"No you didn't."

"I made the plans."

"Alongside Robin. Neither of you could have accounted for what happened at the end there."

"I should have."

"Because you found the assassins? One miracle doesn't mean you can guarantee another."

"I could have fought better."

"You couldn't have done anything. Neither could I. Why are you bothering with me? She's as much Lissa's sister as mine."

"Well, I'm not in love with Lissa!"

Silence filed into the room and looked around. After a few seconds it felt welcome enough to take a seat, open a flagon of mead, and start making plans for the weekend.

After it had finished several cheap romance novels, most of a roast, and a chess puzzle, the silence seemed to remember an appointment, and Chrom sent it on its way.

"Well."

"You didn't hear that!"

"I think I did."

"I didn't mean it. It's not like I…"

"It's not like we had a good reason for most of our arguments, is it? Just spending time together was enough."

"You were wrong most of those times."

"Some of them. And you weren't perfect yourself."

"Like you have any room to judge."

"Fair enough, Naga knows. Of course, if I did have room to judge…"

"Which you _don't_!"

"I'd say I spent some of the best hours of my life arguing with a frustrating, stubborn, arrogant…"

Severa glared at him. Chrom continued.

"brilliant, amazing, and beautiful woman, and I want that to continue. Which I suppose is love."

Severa's eyes shot open. Then she glared again.

"Great. We're both idiots."

Chrom smiled.

"I've heard that's a fair description of love, yes."

Severa didn't.

"No. We're idiots because it can't work."

"Why? Because nothing good can happen to us? All the more reason to take it when the opportunity comes up."

"So it can be ruined too."

Chrom grimaced.

"I haven't bowed for Gangrel, I didn't bow for Aversa, and I'm not bowing to fate. Even if I believed in it. This might work. It might not. But you can't surrender without a fight."

"In case you didn't notice, it won't work already. We drive each other insane."

"Which we'll manage no matter what happens. You're not easy to get along with, in case you didn't notice."

"Like you're a prize!"

"At least… well, we're proving the point."

Severa turned towards the door.

"It won't work."

"Because?"

"My father was Plegian. In case you didn't notice, that's not popular right now."

Chrom's left eyebrow went up half an inch.

"Really?"

"No. I'm ruining everything I want for the fun of it. What do you think I'm doing?"

"Hmm. That will make things more complicated down the line."

"Down the line?"

"Well, if we were going to get married at some point…"

"Married?"

Severa was already facing Chrom again and three steps closer when she stopped.

"If?"

"Well, we might kill each other before we could set any solid plans."

Chrom frowned.

"And that's if we don't die tomorrow. Gods. We're in the last days of a war. We have more important things to worry about."

Severa pulled herself to attention.

"Duh."

"Which also means that if we're alive after this, I doubt a few objections from the nobles will mean much. Maribelle likes you, at least. That should help."

Severa shook her head.

"It still won't work. You wouldn't believe me why."

"What wouldn't I believe?"

"It's too stupid to even say."

Chrom smiled.

"Haven't you talked with Frederick? I believe people far too easily. It's a character flaw."

Severa raised one eyebrow.

"You'd believe anything? I didn't think you were that stupid."

"Try me."

"I'm from the future."

Chrom scratched his chin.

"Hmm."

"See? You don't believe me!"

"I didn't say that. I said 'Hmm'. I just want to be sure this is the story I won't believe, instead of proof I won't believe whatever the story is."

"It's the truth, not that you care."

"Well. I believe you."

Severa's face went blank.

"No you don't."

"I believed Robin's story of amnesia, and he hadn't proven himself half as trustworthy then. In exchange, I found the best friend a man could ask for. I'm inclined to take a risk here."

"Hmmph."

Severa turned her face halfway away from Chrom.

"Fine. You believe me. That doesn't mean anything will work."

Chrom shrugged.

"Now isn't the best time, at any rate. We can talk more once Gangrel is dead."

"And if he kills you?"

"Then it would be a good thing that we didn't make too many plans."

Severa turned for the door.

"You're right. For once."

"But before you go… I have one last thing I need to ask you about."

Severa turned and rolled her eyes.

"What do you… oomph!"

It was a fairly good kiss, if Chrom was any judge. Judging from the second tongue in the middle of his throat, Severa agreed. A few seconds later they separated. He coughed.

"So."

"So."

"We'll… talk more later."

Chrom shook his head as Severa walked away. Well. He'd wanted a distraction from his fears. It seemed he had one.

* * *

><p><strong>Tired of traveling<strong>

* * *

><p>Robin twitched in his seat. He was next to Cordelia, who made him look like a marble statue. Chrom would be here soon. He had something to talk about. Robin just wasn't sure what it was. In the wake of the Plegian war, there were too many options to narrow them down to just one potential disaster. Ensuring that the war was truly over was one problem. Sorting out the division of reparations with Ferox could end in tears and blood. There were probably going to be issues with Chrom taking the throne, sorting out how to deal with the traitors who allied with the Plegian invasion... at least peace wouldn't put him out of work.<p>

The biggest variable, of course, was why Chrom didn't tell him to find Severa. Yes, they'd been arguing more than usual recently, but Chrom had taken Robin's advice on the issue before. A little irritation was a small price to pay for a good tactical mind, no matter what you thought of her. And Severa had a good heart… somewhere.

Chrom stepped into the room and Robin's spine snapped straight. All his questions were about to be put to rest one way or another, and he'd be left with his usual set of answers, hoping one of them would work.

Robin looked over to Cordelia. Where his spine was a steel rod, hers seemed to be some kind of jelly.

"That's Chrom."

"I know. We've talked in the past. On a more or less daily basis, in fact."

"We're talking to Chrom."

"Well, we're going to talk to Chrom soon. Right now he's just staring at us in disbelief."

Robin looked to Chrom. Chrom was still too goggle-eyed to look back. Robin looked over to Cordelia. She was too busy looking at Chrom to look back.

"Just to be sure, should I be jealous of my best friend?"

"No, of course not. It's just… he's here. What should I say?"

"Just talk to him like anyone else."

Cordelia finally turned to look at Robin. Her stare was as blank as Chrom's.

"You know what? I should handle the talking for now. Chrom. Why did you want us here? And why isn't…"

Severa entered the room and answered the last question before Robin could ask it. On the other hand, it did leave several related questions, but on the balance, Robin thought he'd be better off leaving them to Chrom. The general heading of "Why are we here" covered a multitude of questions, and the "Why do you want us here" variant eliminated most of the obvious wrong responses.

Chrom coughed.

"You… both know Severa."

Robin nodded.

"Of course. I'm fairly sure we're family. And I'm proud to be able to claim that honor. She's the best assistant I could have asked for."

Severa smiled. Not much, but she wasn't the kind for full mouth grins at the best of times. Robin counted that as a victory.

Cordelia's head didn't move. Robin nudged her with his elbow.

Cordelia's head started bobbing like a hummingbird.

"I know whoever Chrom would like me to know!"

Severa's smile vanished. Robin suspected he wouldn't see it again any time soon. Chrom's was back, but it was really more of a grimace at the moment.

"I'll take that as a yes. Well. I've asked her to marry me, and she's agreed to have me. On a provisional basis."

Robin smiled back. He hoped that his eyes were smiling too. Right now, they wanted to shift into awkward terror. He'd never considered the possible implications of Severa, Chrom, and Cordelia in the same room. The kind, merciful part of his brain, the bit that didn't deal with tactics and blood, had tried to convince him it would work out fine. The woman he loved (well, respected first, but it was loved now, and had been for some time), his best friend, who he also loved (in a much different sense, admittedly, but with similar enthusiasm), and his only known relative (also loved, in a third sense even further from the romantic) were all important to him. They were vital to his life, and if he could spend time with all of them at once, so much the better.

The rational, tactician portion of his brain was now shaking its head in a corner and telling the rest of him that it saw this coming three miles away. The rest of Robin pushed past and managed to squeak out a few words.

"Congratulations to both of you. Of course, you realize the wedding will destroy Ylisse's budget for the next few… well, Nowi will probably live to see the recovery, at least."

Severa rolled her eyes.

"I don't spend that much."

"Anna keeps records. Anna keeps detailed records."

Chrom coughed.

"I already have Frederick on it. Naga help us all."

Cordelia smiled. Robin thought he'd seen forced smiles before. He was wrong. Compared to Cordelia's face right now, they were friendly, human, and entirely sincere.

"That's wonderful. For you. Chrom. Is. A. Wonderful. Man."

Robin coughed.

"Yes. So, Cordelia and I will…"

"All that changed is now my fantasies need to start with two tragic deaths instead of one."

Chrom looked towards Robin with pity in his eyes. Robin shrugged.

"She has her jokes. Which we can enjoy better in private. Which means…"

Severa smiled again. One side of the mouth much higher than the other. Robin had thought that she was done with smiling for the day. He now revised that to 'hoped', and filed the hopes under 'in vain'.

"Oh, I see now."

Of course she saw it. Everyone with eyes saw it, except Chrom.

"You don't even care enough about your daughter to attend her wedding."

Cordelia snapped towards Severa.

"What?"

"You heard me. You're a miserable excuse for a mother."

"I would be…"

Whatever Cordelia would have said was lost in the crash as Robin leaned too far and fell back onto the floor.

"Gods. I should have seen it coming."

Cordelia grabbed his arm and helped pull him back up.

"Should have…?"

"Well, I've talked to our daughter every day for six months now, and I still hadn't put things together until she told me to my face. We are just perfect parents already."

"That's impossible."

"Chrom marrying her is impossible. The fact she's… well, she's at least my daughter, and I suppose she's going to be yours too… I mean, if you… the proposal was not supposed to go like this. VAIKE would have done a better job. I'm sorry. At least I look good for… forty?"

Severa groaned.

"I didn't think you could do worse than the first time you proposed to mom. Gawds. Gag me."

Robin turned back towards Severa.

"Mom? There's… oh. As in Cordelia… I'm not going to say it's impossible. It happened, whatever this is, so by definition it's possible, and that means I should have seen it coming. What did I miss?"

Chrom lifted his hands.

"Nothing you could have been expected to see. She's from the future. Somewhere around twenty years hence, when the foul dragon Grima has wiped out the Shepherds, Ylisse, and the rest of humanity."

"And she didn't tell us about it because we'd think she was insane. I don't understand the mechanics, but I can work with the facts for now until I do understand them. I suppose you want my blessing?"

"I was going to start with permission."

"You're my closest friend, an honest man, and Severa's been old enough to make her own choices since I met her. I don't think there's a question here. And, for what it's worth, you both have my best wishes for your future. I'm not sure either of you could do better."

"I'm sure Severa would disagree, but thank you."

Robin tapped Cordelia's shoulder.

"I'm not sure this is the best time, but do you have any opinion on…"

"I'm a terrible mother."

"What?"

"My own daughter, and I hardly spend time with her. We've argued too often, I've never told her I loved her."

"You had no way of knowing."

"I didn't even recognize her! A minute ago, I made a joke that I wanted her dead."

She turned towards Severa.

"I'm sorry. I know I must be the worst mother in the world. Whatever you need from me…"

Severa rolled her eyes.

"Like you could make up for ruining my entire life twice."

"I can't imagine what you went through. I didn't think I would be the best mother, but I hoped… I had a wonderful daughter, and I treated her like this?"

Cordelia was on the verge of tears. Severa took a step forward.

"You weren't that bad."

"There's no need to lie to stop hurting my feelings. I need to know my faults so that I can try to avoid making so many mistakes next time. If I even deserve a next time."

Severa took another step.

"Fine! Do you really want to know what you can do right?"

"Yes!"

"Not die! Other than that, I couldn't… other than that you were fine."

"Do… do you mean that?"

"Does it matter? Gawds, I tried to give you a compliment! See if I ever do anything nice again."

"It matters a good deal. I want to do what's best for you. Even if…"

Cordelia looked at Chrom, then back to Severa. Severa rolled her eyes again. Robin decided to never make the threat that they'd get stuck like that if you did it enough. Any further children he'd have could just look to their older sister and prove him a liar.

"All I did was actually talk to him. It turns out that works better than just staring from the bushes."

"I just want you to be happy together."

Chrom smiled.

"We'll try. Now, I know this is a lot to take in, and the two of you are very busy, so, if you want to leave for a little while, I think we'd both be happy to see you out. We have to talk with Maribelle about the ceremony anyway, so..."

Robin nodded and silently thanked Chrom, Naga, and whoever else might have been involved. He was in the middle of a minefield every second they stayed. Several minefields, even, all overlapping.

It was only when he and Cordelia stepped outside that Robin felt the ring in his pocket and realized that he was still in the middle of another one. He took a deep breath and looked to Cordelia.

"So. We're parents."

"Not very good ones."

"Our daughter's going to be Queen of Ylisse, if all goes well. I think most people would call that a success."

"She said I ruined her life."

"Severa says a lot of things. At least half of them to Chrom, and they're engaged. I think you don't need to worry too much about it. With time travel… we have other things to worry about. The world burning, for one."

"Not a pleasant future."

"Well, except for one part. Something I'd like to repeat, if you'd let me."

Robin's previous breath was out of use. He took another one, deeper than the first and dropped to his knees.

"Cordelia, Severa's right, even if she was being sarcastic. You're the most perfect woman in the world, and I would be honored if you'd marry me."

"Well, since Chrom's off the market…"

Cordelia picked up the ring.

"I accept."

Robin let all the air out of his lungs in a rush. After a second of pleased, irrational shock, he smiled.

"Just as well. Imagine the scandal if the queen was a bastard."

* * *

><p><strong>Never show you're weak<strong>

* * *

><p>Severa shuddered. So. This was how it was going to end. Years of effort. A war. Pursued by a dark god. And now she was on the ground, in pain, and almost certainly going to die.<p>

She could face it with a good deal more dignity if her husband wasn't laughing at her.

"It's not funny!"

Chrom shook his head.

"It wouldn't be funny if anyone else suggested it. But since you were the one insisting you were ready to train again, yes. It is funny."

Severa twitched her arm. If everything didn't hurt so much, she'd throw something at him.

"I'm going to haunt you!"

"You'd have to die first. Don't worry, I'm getting Maribelle. I think she's at the cursing and throwing things stage of studying anyway."

Stupid husband. Stupid cramps.

Stupid baby Lucina in her stupid cradle in the stupid nice castle that Severa was stupid enough to live in since she married stupid Chrom in that stupid wedding where she had to cry stupid tears like an idiot.

Stupid perfect happy life. If she didn't know better, she'd get used to it. If she didn't have the nightmares.

It was the same dream every night, more or less. She was in the castle, and then Lucina started crying. She rolled in bed, and Chrom stumbled to his feet. They had an argument about who would deal with the baby, so banal that she couldn't even remember it while she was dreaming, and then something would crash onto the roof. She'd be out of bed and armed then. Lucina would still be crying, but Severa was standing in an open field with Chrom and her parents. The world was on fire. Grima took her mother away. Tore her father apart from the inside. Killed Chrom in front of her, ripped him limb from limb. Sometimes he found Morgan or Kjelle or Owain, for a little novelty, but Chrom was always last. Then Grima looked at her. And laughed.

"You don't matter."

"What?"

"You can't change anything. Chrom, Cordelia, Robin? They could have saved the world. You can't even save yourself."

And then he flew away, leaving her to be dragged away by the dead, all telling her how she failed and was worthless. Sometimes she even thought they were right.

She almost told Chrom about it the first night, but he'd just think she was… it was weakness. She didn't need to show him that, give him something to really make fun of. He had enough of that right now.

Maribelle walked over to Severa and interrupted her thoughts.

"You insisted on this? Even Lissa would have the sense to stay inside for a while longer, darling. Imagine what her little niece would say on finding her mother died over something so senseless."

"I need to stay in shape. In case you hadn't noticed…"

"In case you hadn't noticed, we're at peace at the moment, and acting like a brute can wait until you can walk again without making everyone spout fifteen grey hairs in worry."

"You're not worried about me!"

"I wouldn't be, but Chrom might worry, and then Lissa would worry, and I would hate to make Lissa worry."

Maribelle tsked.

"And you broke several nails. After all the effort you put in, I'd think you'd at least try to avoid this kind of thing."

Severa looked down at her fingers.

"Gawds."

"I know. It's a shame. You could keep yourself looking presentable when we were at war, and now this."

"Just my luck."

Maribelle helped Severa to her feet.

"Well. We can discuss it over tea. This sort of thing is why we have servants."

Step by painful step, Severa managed to find her way inside. Healing magic made the pain less vivid, but it was still nagging at her. It felt like listening to her own arguments from a distance. She fell into her seat without an ounce of grace, and tried not to think too much about how everything ached. Maribelle took the seat next to her.

"The tea should arrive soon. I just hope that the castle hasn't had the same difficulty finding good help as the rest of us. I understand that in the wake of a war one must make... accommodations. But that's no excuse for slovenliness."

Severa merely grunted in response. Maribelle sighed.

"I'll take that as commentary. We slave and slave away for the good of Ylisse. You would expect that others could take to their roles with similar enthusiasm."

Severa smiled.

"We complain all the time."

"Well, yes. And if the servant class wishes to speak of us behind our backs, it's only to be expected. But I'd be much more inclined to excuse them their loose behavior if they would accomplish their work first. It would be wonderful if everyone could have both competence and proper manners, but the presence of one at least allows us to tolerate the absence of the other."

"So why do you tolerate me?"

"Competence, dear. Honestly, I don't see how it's a question. Ah. Our tea. _Late_. I wouldn't be surprised if it was cold as well."

Competence. That was a joke. Competence when she couldn't even complete her training without needing to be dragged inside. Competent when the one change she'd made was gone already. Dead by a fall instead of a sword, but dead all the same. Oh, she might have cut into the time a war took, but that didn't mean she could change fate. Grima would come sooner or later, and then everyone would see how worthless she was. Chrom couldn't change things. Her mother and father couldn't change things. Why should she be any different?

Maribelle was sipping tea. She paused.

"And of course, you saved my beloved Lissa, which means I can never fully fault you. Drink up, dear. The bear blood loses something if it ever drops to room temperature."

"Maybe I was the only reason she was in danger."

"Not the way she tells it, and as questionable as her judgement may be, I'm inclined to believe her over you. Now... ah."

Chrom stepped into the room with baby Lucina in his arms. He looked worse than Severa felt, which was an accomplishment.

"Severa?"

"What is it? Is she hungry? I thought that's why we had a wet nurse!"

Maribelle shook her head.

"Servants."

Chrom shook his head in response.

"No, she doesn't seem hungry. I think... she just wants to be around her mother."

Severa took Lucina into her arms and gave Chrom a sigh in exchange.

"Ugh. You just need attention, don't you."

"Gthsb!"

"That's what I thought. It's a good thing you're so cute. You have no idea what I went through, do you?"

Of course she didn't. Whatever else you could say about Lucina (drooled, too inquisitive, far too cute for one baby it made you _sick_), she was something new. Severa hadn't saved Emmeryn. She cut a little time off a war Chrom could have won anyway. She only saved Lissa from a disaster she brought with her. But Lucina? Lucina hadn't been there the first time.

Lucina deserved better. And Severa was going to make sure she got it.

"Blrp."

"I know. You're getting a better childhood than I ever did. That's a promise, you little turd."

* * *

><p><strong>(Author's notes: Sorry this one was delayed more than the standard. Went a little longer than I was planning on. Hope it was worth the wait. If not, hope the next one is more to your preferences.<strong>

**This one started with one of those ideas that rams into your brain at a right angle from nowhere. Obviously insane, but you can't quite shake it. In this case, it was Severa and Chrom S ranking. The sensible thing would be to toss it out and forget about it. My brain insisted on spending thousands of good processor cycles trying to make it work.**

**The first thing was that, if this was going to work at all, Lucina couldn't be around. Severa's like most people. Whatever faults they have, there's some things they just won't do, and homewrecker seems to be pretty high on her list of unthinkable sins. As a bonus, removing Lucina put Severa in a more central role among the second generation, if only by default. **

**As for the writing proper, I figured a highlights reel approach would be best for skipping over things that went more or less like the game. Also meant I could handle things in one chapter. **

**So, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, and see you next time if you liked what was on offer. )**


	12. Seeing other people

Inigo stood still in the dark and held his breath. The supply closet might be the one safe place in the whole camp. The one place where no-one was after him, Noire couldn't fill him with arrows, Kjelle wouldn't pummel him senseless, and Lucina couldn't yell at him for his brain being filled with rainbows. Yes, he was alone, and that was unfair to all the beautiful women of the world. But he was also alive, and they could wait. For now alone was safe.

"Cough"

Someone was coughing behind him. Suddenly, Inigo was not alone.

"Cough."

No. Someone was _saying_ cough. That went past not-being-alone into being in a very small space with a total lunatic. Inigo knew a few total lunatics. Some of his closest friends were total lunatics. But none of them were the kind of people you wanted to be locked in a supply closet with. Well, maybe one or two, but even then it was risky.

"Cough!"

A lunatic who wanted him to know she was there. Inigo turned around. At least he'd see the stab wounds coming.

"Hey Inigo. Funny meeting you here!"

_Morgan_. Inigo had bad experiences with women recently, tragic fact of life, but most of them had the courtesy to go away at the end. Morgan liked watching the whole disaster AND any followup disasters.

"Morgan. Why are you here?"

"Why are any of us here? No, you're right. Why I'm here is a much better question. Everyone else seems to know why they're someplace."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I know. I was trying to buy time for a good response. Kinda forgot."

Inigo sighed. Of course she did. Then Morgan jolted in place.

"Oh, right! I was waiting for you. I knew you were going to hide in here."

"Perfect. That only leaves me wondering why."

"I thought you'd know. I mean, with all the women you've driven into jealous rages, it seems like you should recognize why sometimes you need to run."

"Jealous rages?"

Inigo smiled. He knew it! Those hard to get acts were just acts. Half the camp must want him by now. Well, good news for the women of the world. There was enough Inigo to go round. Of course, finding a way to juggle his time would be difficult with his responsibilities, but that was a small price…

"Yep! They're all jealous of the girls you aren't hitting on."

"Perfect."

"Well, I'm one of the people they're jealous of. So it's tough for me too."

Inigo sighed.

"Was that all for today? A reminder of your attitude on my philandering? Because I'm sure there's some lucky woman out there…"

"I am too! Which is why today's your lucky day!"

"Why?"

"Because today only, you've secured the services of Ylisse's second finest tactician exclusively for aid in your romantic pursuits! There's probably someone who would give you a chance, and we're going to find her. ...Or him."

"Her."

"Are you sure you want to narrow your options like that? I'm not sure we can afford it."

"Yes."

"Alright! Operation impending disaster is off to a great start! We'll get your love life turned around in no time. You know. Once we find a way to get outside without getting you killed by Kjelle."

Inigo was still fuzzy on the details of the plan when he was safely out of the supply closet and at a table in the mess hall. All he knew for sure was that every part of it was humiliating, and that, as he was still alive, it worked. Morgan was chattering away already. Inigo smiled and nodded.

"Now, we need to start by figuring out what you're looking for in a date. Nothing too detailed, but little things. For example, a good figure, archery talent, a tendency to go slightly insane…"

"Let's not go with those. There are so many women in the world, it's hard to narrow it down to just one dream girl. It would be a crime to leave only one woman able to experience the divine gift Naga left to all womankind."

"So, you want someone with a good sense of humor. That's a start."

"What? I mean, a woman who laughs at my scintillating banter is a fine start. Of course, she'll love puns. All women do."

Morgan winced.

"Oh. I thought you were making a joke. Because the way things work, we'll be lucky to find one woman who doesn't want to kill you. Try to narrow things down."

"Oh, fine. The sophisticated, mature type has her charms. An older woman, perhaps. With…"

Morgan shook her head.

"Speaking for us mature women everywhere, we're not interested."

"You're younger than I am!"

"That's just my natural good looks and ageless charm. Also the amnesia thing."

Morgan tapped on her pointed ears.

"I'm probably the oldest person in the Shepherds other than mom. Who also doesn't think much of your routine. You need someone too young to have picked up on all your tricks."

"A shame. All those years, and all of them wasted. Too old to appreciate the finer things when they really arrive."

"I dunno. Mom likes Tome Stackers pretty well. But we're wasting time! We're on a deadline, and every second wasted is a second the one woman for you could be falling for Gerome!"

"I'm sure…"

"Tick! She's looking at his muscles!"

"What does he…"

"Tick! His broody act is making her heart flutter!"

"You're…!"

"Tick! She's thinking about what his eyes look like behind the mask!"

"Alright! Fine! I'll cooperate!"

Morgan didn't respond for several seconds. Then she shook her head.

"Sorry. I was imagining myself lost in Gerome's eyes. I bet they're dreamy. So! Where were we?"

"You wanted me to describe my dream woman."

"Right! So, what did we have?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just a beautiful woman who appreciates the little things in life."

"Which means that she can be entertained on a budget. Likes… cheap… women. Got it!"

"That isn't what I said!"

"But what matters is what you meant. Go on. This is great data!"

"Well, of course every woman has her unique charms, but I like to think that the…"

Morgan snapped her fingers. Inigo sighed.

"Why must you ask me to narrow the vast array of female charm to just one point?"

"Well, part of the idea was to get you to stop saying things like that. I guess we can delay that until later in the relationships. Assuming you can get past the first date at some point. I'll try to find... anyone. You stay at the table. Just stay there. Oh! And here's some cue cards!"

Morgan vaulted the table and dashed out of the tent. Inigo sighed and looked down at the papers in front of him.

"Don't be yourself!"

"People like it when you compliment things other than their bodies first! So do Manaketes."

"All your pickup lines are terrible."

"Women aren't universally fond of puns."

"Don't use puns."

"Your puns cause people physical pain."

"I think people are planning to kill you for some of those puns."

"Remember, statistically speaking, most women you know can break both your arms if you keep making puns."

"I mean, _I_ think they're funny, in a pathetic way, but…"

Inigo crumpled up the set. What did Morgan know? She was just a girl, really. Too infatuated with books and games to understand the world of the heart. Inigo was a man of romance. His bad luck so far was just that. Bad luck. The next time he'd meet a woman, things would go much better.

Inigo looked up to see one walking up to him already. Perfect. Morgan was standing next to her. Well. Time to show her how things were done.

"Did heaven lose an angel? Because..."

Morgan winced. Obviously, she wasn't expecting this level of sophistication this early.

"Inigo, you know Anna, right?"

"Of course. I could never forget a vision of such loveliness. How could I confuse our foremost merchant with anyone else?"

Morgan winced harder.

"This is her sister. Anna."

Inigo smiled. A good smile covered everything. It kept away loneliness, it hid insecurity, and it certainly would help with one or two little lies.

"I'm sorry for my little joke. I would recognize her anywhere. How could anyone mistake her for her sister? Your eyes are much more beautiful, my dear. The richest green..."

"My eyes are brown."

Inigo looked up. Dammit.

"So are my sister's. Good thing you're rich, handsome, because I wouldn't be here on personality."

"Despite all my charms?"

"Rich is the best kind of charm. Keep talking about the money."

Inigo flashed his best disarming smile, the one that women the world over were bound to love.

"Well, you see my dear, the thing of it is…"

A few seconds later, Anna was storming out the door, Inigo had a bowl of molten soup on his head, and Morgan was chasing after the merchant, yelling into the distance.

"Well, his father's… whatever Virion is. So that's LIKE being rich! Technically, I wasn't lyyyyiiiinnnngggggg!"

After a few seconds, she trotted back to Inigo's table.

"Well. That could have gone better."

Inigo coughed out a large piece of beef.

"Really?"

"I know. Given your track record I wouldn't believe it either."

"I'll have you know..."

"Don't worry!"

Morgan smiled. If he didn't save the term exclusively for his own winning plays, Inigo would have said she was trying to be disarming. As usual with Morgan's smiles, it just made him more nervous.

"She's not the only person I talked into trying to tolerate you."

"Trying? I'll have you know..."

"I know you're trying already. But maybe there's someone who likes that kind of thing! Plus, this was a lunch date. Everyone knows lunch dates are mediocre at best."

"Not a handicap for any real romantic."

"I'm glad we agree it's not helping you. Fortunately, I set up a nice walk in the cherry blossoms. _Very_ suave."

Morgan grabbed his hand and ran out into the blazing sun. Inigo dashed after her, if only to keep his arm in its socket. It was easy to forget how strong she was when she was just bounding from place to place. Then you had to deal with her, and it all came back in a rush.

The blossoms were in full bloom, and there was a woman waiting for him under. She was stern looking and a bit older than his ideal, but there was still a certain charm. Inigo was about to open his mouth when Morgan clamped it shut.

"I should talk to her."

Morgan walked up to the woman and bowed. The woman bowed back. Then they began gibbering at each other. For the first time, Inigo wished he'd paid attention when his father mentioned language courses.

I bring forward the heir to Roseanna. I understand that, given… uh, everything, he's not exactly a catch. But the important thing is, I made an effort.

The woman looked at Inigo and sighed. Inigo tried to look dashing.

I can see why you would bargain with such a lowly house. I'm afraid the heir to the province is… unable to attend at the moment.

I one HUNDRED percent understand. I mean, we're at war.

Is he literate? He seems to be a complete imbecile.

Morgan shrugged. Inigo suspected they were talking about him. He flashed a winning smile. Morgan turned back towards the woman.

Yes. Also yes. Both of the things you said were true.

The woman winced, then handed Morgan a stack of papers.

Have him complete these.

Morgan smiled and snapped a salute before walking back to Inigo.

"Great news!"

"She's already enraptured by my foreign charm?"

"No. No. Nope. But she did give us a pass for the first stage of the interview. If you fill out all these forms, and your responses are acceptable, and no-one better comes along, you should have a date within… six to ten weeks. Assuming we don't get killed first."

Inigo tossed the papers aside.

"In case you didn't notice, Morgan, I'm a man of _passion_. I win a woman's heart with my looks and talents, not with… _paperwork_. Tell her that if she wants me, we can get to the heart of things here and now!"

"I think that might be an act of war."

"Love is a battlefield, Morgan! And there, I'm…"

"I think dad would get angry at me if I let you start a war. Also she's leaving already."

Inigo looked over to where the woman had been. She was gone already, without so much as a goodbye. A callous way to treat a lover's soul.

Morgan coughed.

"Oh. Just for future reference, don't refer to yourself as a 'lover'. It's creepy."

"I can't see who would mind."

"Everyone? I think Severa said you were half the reason she was giving up on men."

Inigo shook his head.

"There's a world of women out there, Morgan, and I'm sure one of them will recognize what I have to offer."

"I'm just saying not to use the L word on the first date. And, lucky for you, I've saved your best chance for last."

"Sure to be a disaster, like your last attempts. If you simply allowed me to demonstrate…"

"I have. The only reason I'm helping you now is seeing you fail for yourself stopped being funny. I thought a break might help it be hilarious again."

Inigo glared at Morgan.

"Fine. Why should this go any better than your last attempts at matchmaking?"

Morgan smiled right back.

"Well, because she's perfect for this. We already know she has the potential to like you, if you don't screw up too badly. Beautiful, intelligent, she shares a lot of interests with you, and she's in the market for a date _right now_."

Inigo scratched his chin.

"Are you sure?"

"_Positive_. You couldn't find someone better on your own. I've reserved the table at dinner, Brady's agreed to play violin, it's basically as can't-miss as anything. I think dad would be impressed with this one, and he's, you know, DAD."

"Fine. I'll prepare. Dinner's at…?"

"Six."

"I'll be there at five. Women appreciate a man who's fashionably early."

"I have not heard that before. But good enthusiasm!"

Morgan walked away to do whatever mad things she set up in her own time, and Inigo returned to his private corner of the camp. Even if Morgan's track record was somewhat spotty, this was an opportunity not to be missed. A beautiful woman, fine dining (he checked, of course, and Sumia was preparing the meal. If it had been Sully, Inigo might have passed up on the whole thing.), and a perfect opportunity to demonstrate his unmatched romantic talent. He found the finest cologne, the one that he had spent several months of hard earned coin on, and spritzed it on. (It was impossible to believe that Severa had compared it to yak vomit.) He adjusted his clothing, brushed his hair, and practiced his smile. Yes. This would be perfect.

He arrived in the mess hall at five on the dot. Prepared a table. Lit a candle. And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

At five minutes after six, Morgan walked over to his table.

Inigo smiled.

"I should have known. You were interested in me all along. This whole thing was just a play to try for my heart."

Morgan smiled. She also seemed like she was about to start laughing.

"I just came here to tell you you were at the wrong table."

She gestured towards the corner. Inigo stood up, and walked over.

"I'm sorry about that. A woman of your beauty should never be kept waiting. Now, what did…"

Inigo looked across the table.

A wyvern looked back at him.

"Hrrph."

Inigo turned around, and walked back to Morgan's table.

"MORGAN!"

"Hey Inigo! How are you and Minerva getting along?"

"You set me up with a wyvern!"

"Well, you've tried to date a dragon. I thought you'd get along great. What seems to be the problem?"

"I prefer to date within my species!"

"If everyone was so narrowminded, I wouldn't have been born. Besides, you pretty much sunk your chances with every woman I could think of. I had to go for the unconventional tactics."

"This is just a joke to you now, isn't it?"

"What? No! I worked hard on it! This is the fruit of long hours of effort. Days of concentrated thought! Weeks of planning! This was really important to me, Inigo!"

Morgan's eyes looked like a kicked puppy's. Any second now, she'd start whimpering. Inigo sighed.

"I appreciate that. But, if you're done, I feel like I'd do better on my own. After all, there's a wide world of women out there, and if I let these little failures deter men, then I would be..."

Morgan's eyes snapped back to normal before he was done with the sentence.

"Wellll... there is one last thing we could try. Maybe."

Inigo sighed again, for emphasis.

"What is it?"

"I didn't ask her yet, because she is WAY out of your league, and I'm sure she only mentioned you as an example. And, I mean, this is only going to humiliate you when you see just how far you have to go to even approach appropriate date material for her."

"Oh, do I?"

"I'm not kidding. I'm pretty sure she turned down more impressive guys than you this morning. Plus, she's got a temper sometimes."

"Do I look like the kind of man who would back down from a challenge? I laugh in the face of failure."

"I've seen you fail often enough to agree with that."

"Introduce me to her, and watch a master at work."

Morgan looked around. Tapped her foot. Hummed.

"You know I'm only reluctant to do this for your own good. And if she shuts you down, you won't ever get another shot. I'm still shocked she's willing to give you one chance."

"Better to have loved and lost..."

"Than to be shut down by every single woman you meet? I guess so. I mean, you only have experience with the second one, but mom said the first was better than nothing."

Inigo winced.

"...right."

"Oh! One other thing. The cue cards and general advice?"

"I remember them. They didn't seem to do much good before."

"Because you ignored them entirely. The important thing is, they were mostly here for this date. I mean, I never thought you'd have a chance here, but that's why I made sure to warn you. "

"I'm sure I can get by on my..."

"You really can't. She's great, but her family, well, you wouldn't be safe if you broke her heart."

"Really, in matters of _romance_, what is safe?"

Morgan skewed her face in thought for a second.

"In this case, safe means able to walk upright. Is that clear enough? Because I think I have some educational wood prints of what could happen!"

"I'll pass. Thank you."

"Aww."

Inigo shook his head. No point in worrying about Morgan's stories. He never backed down from a challenge! Well, rarely. Almost never.

"I...lost my cue cards. I suppose I'll play it by ear."

Morgan smiled.

"I knew you would. Which is why I made a backup set, including several detailed sections on possible conversation topics. Trust me. If you follow these, you won't have any chance of outright disaster."

"And if I don't?"

"That's why the woodprints are on the other side. They'll help you remember why you're following them!"

Morgan handed him the cards. Inigo took a look. They couldn't be as bad as Morgan said. After all, when Kjelle had said what would happen if he didn't leave Severa alone, things had only been about half as bad. At worst!

A thorough examination confirmed his instincts. The first card wasn't so harsh. He'd seen people in much more painful states. Of course, most of them died in agony and everyone, including Lucina, had agreed never to speak of the matter again, but the important thing was that he had the mental framework for this kind of thing.

Then he flipped to the second card. Ah. So that's what Morgan meant.

Inigo decided to avoid looking at the rest of the images. He had the general idea at that point, no need to go into extraneous detail.

" Fine. When can I meet this mystery woman?"

"Just go back to the table you prepared. Don't worry about finding her. She'll find you."

Inigo stumbled back to his previous place, and tried to keep his imagination in check.

A few minutes later, a woman walked in wearing a quite fetching dress. Pleasant looking girl, if a little paler than seemed absolutely healthy. Morgan wasn't all wrong, she certainly seemed like...

Inigo blinked. He recognized her. It was a wonder it took him that long.

"Noire?"

"H...hello Inigo. It's a nice night, isn't it?"

"Yes. Morgan mentioned that I should be waiting for someone. Do you know...?"

"No. It's... just me."

"Ah. I was expecting someone else. Are you sure...?"

"Morgan said you were waiting for me."

Inigo was about to mention the woman he was sure he was waiting for, when he looked down at the cards. One described Noire's dress. Several of the others emphasized not mentioning other people when you were talking to someone. Another reminded him of the references on the other side. He decided against that first response in favor of a more nuanced approach.

"Morgan says a lot of things. But I did make an order for two. You never know what might happen on a night like this."

"No... no you don't..."

"And, when a dashing, handsome lady's man finds a beautiful woman looking for him, there's no reason to ignore the opportunity. I think the musicians are playing our song."

"It's... not my song."

"Well, not yet. But the night is still young."

Outside, Morgan smiled. It was a lot of work, and grandma only knew why Noire would be interested in someone like Inigo, but Morgan prided herself on being a good friend. A little setup, a day's hard work, and a few carefully worded deals with half the camp was a small price to pay to make Noire happy.

Besides, she got to see Inigo suffer. And Morgan was pretty sure that was a good enough payment in and of itself.

* * *

><p><strong>(Author's notes: Bit of a short one this time. Little too long to include in a set, a little too short to feel entirely comfortably on its own. But these things happen. Unfortunately, it seems like they'll happen a little more often for the near future. Shorter chapters, less frequent updates, or possibly both. If there's a strong preference on the axis of update size versus update speed, might be worth mentioning. <strong>

**As for the actual story, Morgan and Inigo tend to have a pretty good dynamic and it seemed worth playing with. Morgan setting up Inigo with a series of disastrous dates, which might not be disasters if Inigo wasn't involved suggested itself as a story pretty quickly, and most of the action played out from there. Didn't feel like the obvious setup of ending with Inigo and Morgan getting together quite worked for either of them, but Morgan helping out a friend seemed more likely to go well. I'd like to think it worked. **

**As always, hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading.)**


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